


Fast-Forward Rewind

by aurilly



Category: Heroes (TV)
Genre: M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-08
Updated: 2010-10-01
Packaged: 2017-10-02 19:02:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurilly/pseuds/aurilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mohinder gets stuck in 1977 with his family and an attentive Adam. Meanwhile, in the present, Sylar investigates the case of the missing Mohinder. Who will come out on top and what will become of Mohinder?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning! This is complete, but in a very weird way that won't work for a lot of people. I got stuck on a single line of dialogue late in the game, even though I wrote the chapters that ended it. So, at a certain point, there will be notes all over it that tell you what happens. It's kind of sketchy after chapter 6, to be honest, but what was meant to be the last chapter is 90% written out in a normal way. If you only like normally complete stories (I don't blame you), please don't read this. 
> 
> Takes place in an AU that starts immediately after season 2.

Everything was so much _more_ than Mohinder remembered. More people, more stalls, more noise, more smells, more wares for sale. Madras's biggest market was thriving in a way that he had never seen before. A sweet-smelling basket of ripe kumquats at a fruit stand caught his eye and made him stop in his tracks. "I haven't seen one of this variety since I was a boy," Mohinder murmured. "How much?" he asked the merchant, and thus began the ancient rite of haggling. Mohinder was not only out of practice; he also had no way of knowing what a reasonable price should be. After a minute of back and forth, he paid and walked away, wondering if he had been grossly overcharged.

"Come on," Mohinder beckoned.

Mohinder's companion trailed quietly at his heels, with eyes wide open and senses drinking in this foreign and exotic cityscape. The only thing he didn't seem to notice was the way some people were staring. Although Mohinder relished the almost forgotten experience of blending into a crowd---as much as his handsome face and aura of wealth could allow---the other man stuck out like the proverbial sore thumb.

"I didn't want to."

"You didn't want to what?" Mohinder asked. He prayed that the conversation wasn't going where he thought it was going.

"To kill him. I didn't want to, but I had to."

Despite Mohinder's attempts during the past hour to focus on other things, such as changing money and figuring out where to go first, they were indeed going to have to talk about this. Mohinder sighed, hoping they could get it over with quickly. All Mohinder wanted was to enjoy the afternoon, to savor this experience and revel in escapism at its most extreme before getting down to what was certain to be difficult business. Discussions of violence hardly fit that goal.

*****************************************************

It all started when Mohinder, sitting at his desk after dinner, was valiantly trying to think of a way to piece his life back together. His thoughts were interrupted by a phone call.

"Good evening, Dr. Suresh. Elle told me that you didn't show up at the lab today. I'm just calling to make sure you're ok."

Mohinder couldn't believe the man's nerve. On the other hand, quitting had probably been too easy to be true. Look what had happened to Bennet. He held firm, all the same. "I tendered my resignation two days ago, Bob. You know that."

"It wasn't a real resignation, of course. No, you meant that you wanted a couple of days to recuperate after your harrowing experience with Sylar. I completely understand your need for some time off. However, we need you as much as ever, Dr. Suresh. Things have become very dangerous and complicated. I'd like to send you and Elle on a very sensitive assignment that may involve---" Mohinder cut him off.

"No offense to your daughter, but I have zero interest in going on an assignment. When you told me the other day that all efforts were going to be redirected to other initiatives, and especially after discovering what you did regarding Sylar, I no longer have any desire to work with you people. The only reason I joined this company was to do research on the virus."

"I thought you joined in order to bring us down from the inside," Bob countered.

Mohinder felt flustered. "Well, yes. That, too. But the virus research is the reason I stayed despite the morally objectionable things that were going on around me. Innocent people will die unless we continue this research. I need to find a cure that doesn't rely on mass exportation of my blood, and Claire. I can't do that while gallivanting around the globe with Elle and a gun."

"The virus work is important, but priorities change, Dr. Suresh. In addition to Nathan Petrelli's assassin, Sylar is on the loose… and with the cure you gave him. I'm sure you'd agree with me that he's a more pressing concern than the virus."

Mohinder couldn't believe the accusation. "Was coerced into giving him, for the record. Sylar wouldn't be a pressing concern if you hadn't rescued him in the first place. He may be a monster, but no one, not even Sylar, deserves to be experimented on in that way. My priorities remain the same. God knows how many more manufactured strains of the virus are out there. It's my duty to help."

"I know you have an emotional attachment to this project, because of your sister, and the fact that you personally are the only cure right now, but this company oversees a large number of concerns. The virus is only one of them. We need your skills, your smarts, your know-how, not just your blood. How about this? You'll transfer into the role of a regular agent, but I'll also keep a look-out for any new patients who may come to our attention. That way we can get new samples of the virus for you to experiment with in your spare time."

Mohinder did a double take. "What do you mean, new samples? Don't you have anything to work on right now? What about the samples from when Molly was sick? The ones I took from the Haitian?"

"When we realized what Adam was after, we destroyed all previous research and blood samples."

"You _what?_ Including the mutated strains?" Mohinder couldn't believe it. In fact, he _didn't_.

"Well, I don't know about that for sure. One of the more senior heads…"

Mohinder was sure that somewhere, the company was working against him. Was working to create more mutated strains. And he didn't even have a pure version of the virus to study anymore and test things against. Mohinder was being manipulated as ruthlessly as Bennet had been, and he felt powerless. "Fuck you, Bob," he spat.

Bob simply sighed. "I take it you need some more time off. I expect to see you in two days, packed and ready to head off with Elle. She's really looking forward to it. Goodbye, Dr. Suresh. Say hi to Molly for me." Mohinder hung up and threw the phone at the wall. Molly stared at him before shrugging and getting back to math. Two days. The company would own him again in two days. How could he get out of this? How could he make sure he could continue his research without depending on Bob? There just wasn't enough time to…

Mohinder suddenly had an idea. He remembered something very vague and bizarre that Matt had told him when he called from Texas the previous evening with updates on Nathan's condition. Mohinder started rooting around Matt's work papers. The information was very sketchy, but he found an office contact. It would probably take some time to find the right phone number, but it could definitely be done. Why had no one thought of this before?

*****************************************************

The next morning, Mohinder dropped Molly off at school, as he always did. It was her first day going back to a semi-normal routine since Sylar's visit.

"What's up with you today, Mohinder?" she asked. "You seem… I dunno. Really excited."

"I'm just… I think it'll be a really good day."

Molly looked at him with even more curiosity. "You're dressed kind of funny, too. Funnier than usual. And what's with the bag?"

"Hey! You're not allowed to tease me." Mohinder nuzzled her head.

"No! Don't mess up my hair!" she giggled.

"As a matter of fact, this is my father's old bag. I found it the other day at the back of the closet."

"Ok. But it's still ugly."

Mohinder bent down in front of her and became serious. "Are you going to be ok?" he asked.

"Yeah. I think so." She tried to sound completely confident for his sake.

"Molly, I want you to listen to me carefully. I'm less worried that _he'll_ come after you than I am about the company. Just in case anything happens, remember---"

"Yes, yes, I know. Never let myself be alone. Scream really loudly. Tell the boogieman to call you before he does anything. Lie if Bob makes me look for someone."

Mohinder hugged her one last time. "Good girl. Have fun at school. I'll see you later."

She ran to catch him one last time. "I love you, Mohinder."

"I love you, too, Molly."

*****************************************************

Mohinder loathed Times Square. It was loud, garish, and claustrophobic; however, these were among the reasons why he had made his rendezvous here. He'd been waiting anxiously for fifteen minutes, and the old rucksack was starting to feel heavy. Mohinder didn't know what to expect. Would anyone notice? Apparently they hadn't the last time. Would there be a noise? A pop? A whoosh?

He didn't get to find out. A man Mohinder had seen once, but never actually met, breathlessly came running up to him with his arms open wide.

"Dr. Suresh?" The man's eyes were shining with inexplicable joy.

"Hiro Nakamura?"

"I came out over there." Hiro pointed across the square to the W hotel. Unable to contain himself anymore, he flailed with excitement. "I am so excited to meet you again, to help you. When you called yesterday, I thought maybe it was you. The voice sounded similar. The name, too, but I wasn't sure, so I didn't say anything. But it is you!" Hiro threw his arms around Mohinder, who froze in surprise and confusion.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Have we met before?"

"Yes, in the future. You saved my life. You gave me the key to saving the world. You are my… my new hero." Something bitter tinged Hiro's elation.

Mohinder didn't quite know how to respond. "Um. Ok. Why don't you tell me about it over breakfast?"

*****************************************************

Mohinder and Hiro walked a couple of blocks to Bryant Park, bought some hot chocolate and croissants from the 'wichcraft stand, and sat down at one of the park tables. Both men were silently thrilled at how well they got along. Hiro's infectious enthusiasm and optimistic nature played well with the doctor's logical thinking and good-natured reserve. After listening to Hiro's wild tale of things Mohinder had apparently done, but would never actually end up doing, Mohinder laid out his plan. Hiro listened and looked conflicted.

"I understand the problem, but I swore not to time travel anymore. It's too dangerous. We could destroy the space-time continuum. I already have, I think. I'm sorry." Hiro looked genuinely distraught at having to reject his hero's request.

Mohinder had an argument ready. "But we'll be going solely for observation purposes. I'll just see how the virus was in its original form, and try to get a sample from Shanti. She's the only subject I can trust not to have been tainted by the company. It's the only way to find a way to fight new strains they might come up with. We don't even know where they got their initial samples and research from in the first place. For all I know, the company injected Molly and the Haitian, too."

"But how can you watch your sister die and not do anything to stop it? Especially when you know you could cure her. I don't think it's possible."

"It'll be hard, but I'll have you to restrain me, and anyway, what would be the point? She'd just die some other way." While discussing the alternate future he had visited, Hiro had explained to a fascinated Mohinder his theory that he was only able to prevent deaths that would happen in the future of his own personal time-line. "I really do think this can work, Hiro," Mohinder reiterated.

"I don't know." Mohinder could see that Hiro wanted to be helpful but remained unconvinced.

"Look, I even planned things in advance." Mohinder opened the rucksack Molly had mocked earlier that morning. "I have thousands of dollars worth of old American bills. We'll have plenty of cash for whatever we might need to do. I even got some seventies clothes so we fit in."

Hiro was awestruck. Mohinder had obviously thought this out very seriously, more seriously than Hiro ever had.

"You are even smarter than I knew you were." The hero-worship came back into his eyes, and Mohinder knew he had won. Hiro took a deep breath. "Ok. I will do it. For you. But let us try to spend as little time there as possible." Hiro paused and grinned. "I have never been to India before. I'm glad I can go with you."

Accustomed to Molly's ability, Mohinder had prepared for the eventuality that Hiro would need some assistance. "I don't know how this works, but I brought a picture, in case you need help orienting." He handed Hiro an old photograph of himself as a boy with one of his elementary school friends. "I think this is a good spot. It's always been a very quiet alleyway. No one should see us arrive."

"You really want to do this?" Hiro asked seriously.

"Yes, very much," Mohinder replied.

"Ok. I will change clothes, and then we'll go."

They went into the adjacent New York Public Library so Hiro could change in the bathroom. He came out a few minutes later, decked out in a hilarious pair of bellbottoms that fit in with Mohinder's brown polyester suit. A passing librarian raised her eyebrows at the unlikely Flashdance wannabes as they headed for the always-empty room devoted to the Schlosser Collection on the History of Papermaking.

"I look crazy," Hiro said.

"You look swinging," Mohinder replied with a grin.

"Are you ready?" Hiro asked, once they reached a deserted alcove.

"Yes," Mohinder whispered, even though he wasn't quite sure he was. At that moment, his phone started to vibrate. He looked at Hiro questioningly.

"Go ahead," Hiro said.

Mohinder didn't recognize the number. "Hello?"

"Hello, Mohinder." It was that voice again. Smooth, cloying, insolently familiar. Mohinder was getting a little tired of this.

"What is it now?"

The voice on the other end of the line chuckled. "Just wanted to let you know it worked like a charm. Thanks for all your help the other day."

Mohinder was about to jump down Sylar's throat, but he was shushed before he could begin.

"I know what you're going to say, but don't worry. You held up your end of the bargain, and the little princess is safe. Your sparky girlfriend on the other hand…" Sylar's cruel laughter sent a chill down Mohinder's spine. He snapped the phone shut.

Hiro looked at him with concern. "Trouble at home?"

Mohinder almost choked. It's a good thing Sylar wasn't around. He would have had a field day with that.

"No, not quite. That was Sylar."

The expression on Hiro's face reminded Mohinder that no one had yet informed him of this new development. "Sylar is dead. I killed him."

"He survived," Mohinder replied grimly.

Hiro contemplated this and frowned. "But that means… that means I failed my mission. But… maybe it was destined. Maybe I was not meant to be a killer. I knew I was not meant to become my future self." He collected himself and became resolute. "Let's go. We will take care of that when we come back later. In a few minutes. You know." Mohinder understood and thrilled at the concept. Hiro grasped Mohinder and was about to make the jump when something struck him. With his hand still on Mohinder's shoulder, he delayed for a moment. "He calls you?"

It was moments like these when Mohinder hated his life. "Yes."

Mohinder didn't know what he had expected to feel, but it was definitely something dramatic, something physical, something visual. Something more than nothing. It turned out that time travel was as simple as watching a scene change in a film.

*****************************************************

So here they were, an Indian geneticist and a Japanese time traveler, wandering the markets of Madras in February 1977, and talking about the non-death of someone who hadn't been born yet.

"Would you like a piece?" Mohinder offered Hiro a bite of the kumquat, but his new friend ignored the offer. This had been bothering Hiro for quite some time, and now that he saw this opportunity to talk about it, he was desperate to unburden himself. Hiro reasoned that Mohinder would be able to understand since he obviously knew the killer well enough to get phone calls from him.

"Sylar was… is a very tragic person," Hiro continued eagerly. "I watched him kill his mother."

"What?" Despite his familiarity with Sylar's list of crimes, not even Mohinder could believe this.

"No, not like that. Not like the other killings. It was an accident. He wanted her to love him, and she attacked him when he showed her what he could do. He can do very beautiful things when he doesn't kill. He defended himself and it happened. My friend wanted me to stab him then, but I couldn't. He was too sad. He was broken."

Mohinder couldn't help but be interested. "When was this?"

"Two nights before the night with Peter Petrelli."

The day he had called. Mohinder reeled from the confirmation of the irrational conviction he had always harbored that the killer had actually been reaching out for help. It was tragic, in every sense of the word. However, Mohinder still felt uncomfortable talking about it, and changed the subject.

"So, my plan is to find my grandparents' house. We can ask around there where my parents are living."

"Are you and your father close?" Hiro asked.

"No, he was murdered by Sylar about six months ago. But even when he was alive, we weren't close."

"Oh," Hiro replied, with an awkward blush. "I'm sorry. My father was recently murdered, too."

"I know. My condolences. Matt told me just a little bit about the case. Something about a 400 year-old man named Adam Monroe, the one who wanted to release the virus."

"Yes."

Mohinder didn't notice how tight-lipped that had made Hiro. He suddenly remembered something that had puzzled Matt, but which had been forgotten in the ensuing debacle with Nathan. "Matt told me that you and Adam disappeared the other day… I mean, in the future… I mean… ugh. What happened?"

"I have sworn never to tell anyone." Hiro's stony face made it clear to Mohinder that he meant it.

"Um, alright," Mohinder conceded. They kept walking, and Mohinder alleviated the tension caused by their recent conversation by explaining various cultural points, pointing out historical facts about the city, and teaching Hiro a couple of key words in Tamil. They wove through the ever-thickening crowd. Hiro was enjoying the doctor's company and began paying more attention to the products for sale.

"Dr. Suresh… I mean, Mohinder, I think it would be nice to get a present for my friend Ando. I think these skirts for men would make him laugh. And maybe your little girl would like… what did you say they were called?"

"A sari. I don't know. Aren't you afraid that taking things back with us would destroy the space-time continuum?" Mohinder joked.

Hiro shook his head in confusion, not quite understanding Mohinder's sarcasm. "No. It's only a piece of cloth."

"Actually, that's a nice idea," Mohinder replied with a laugh. "If we accomplish our mission today, we won't have another chance. Here's a stall with clothes. Let's look." He began digging through the piles of richly colored and embroidered cloth. "This might be a good color for Molly. She really loves purple. Oooh, or red? The detailing on this is incredible…" Mohinder concentrated on this task as he concentrated on everything in life.

"Kensei Takezo," he heard Hiro whisper.

"What does that mean?" Mohinder asked absent-mindedly. He was up to his elbows in saris, so he was only half listening, but it sounded like a pretty phrase. He glanced at Hiro, and was surprised to see him transfixed, with a number of conflicting emotions playing on his features: fear, awe, regret… "What's wro---"

"We must go. Now. This was a mistake." Hiro grabbed him. At that moment, Mohinder was shocked to hear himself addressed.

"Suresh?"

Mohinder instinctively whirled around, and in doing so, his shoulder lost contact with Hiro's hand just as the time traveler's eyes closed in concentration. Out of the corner of his eye, Mohinder barely caught the beginnings of a twitch of panic as Hiro started to lurch towards him in an effort to regain the connection before he disappeared. He didn't have time to digest what had happened, because the person who had addressed him was now upon him.

"What are you doing here? Aren't you leaving this afternoon?" The man's expression switched from joviality to confusion when Mohinder looked at him blankly. He peered more closely at Mohinder. "Oh, forgive me. I thought you were someone else."

"Not a problem," Mohinder replied distractedly, looking around. The man stared at him some more before fading away into the crowd again, mumbling something about "uncanny… playing a trick on me?" As he watched him walk away, Mohinder had a flash of understanding as he remembered how his family had always marveled at the resemblance Mohinder bore to a younger version of one of his uncles.

However, he didn't have time to think about that now. He refused to believe what his gut told him had just happened. Hiro had to be around here somewhere. He would reappear any moment now. He must. Mohinder continued to peer around him in panic.

"Have you lost something?" Mohinder was about to ignore this new unwelcome conversant, but something about the voice attracted his attention. The accent was different, and there was purpose behind the words. Mohinder turned around and saw someone as out of place in this crowd as Hiro had been. The stranger looked like an inverted sunny sky. Golden skin tanned from the Indian sun, golden hair, and gigantic, shining blue eyes.

"Excuse me?" Mohinder asked.

"You look a bit confused. As if you'd lost something, or someone." The young man was torn between speaking to Mohinder and also looking breathlessly around, just as Mohinder had been. He had seen.

"No," was Mohinder's kneejerk response.

"Really? You didn't see an Asian man here a second ago? I thought he was speaking to you. And then… and then…" Thinly veiled hysteria was lurking beneath the man's enforced calm. Mohinder figured that watching someone vanish into thin air would do that to anyone. Thank goodness this fellow seemed to have been the only one to notice. If he had actually seen Hiro, there was no use denying the fact. Mohinder decided to play this very cavalierly, and hoped that the man would convince himself that the occurrence was just a trick of the eyes.

"Ah yes, him. Don't know where he got off to. He must have buggered off into the crowd." Mohinder returned to the saris, hoping this would be over. It wasn't.

"You don't seem troubled. Was he not a friend of yours?" The man looked at Mohinder---really looked at him, for the first time.

"No, he was just… I met him at the hotel this morning. Don't even know his name. He asked me to show him the way to the market. I suppose now that we're here, he didn't need my guidance anymore. A bit rude, but… oh well." Mohinder was aware that he was babbling. He tried to close the conversation. "I understand your surprise. I'm sure he was very noticeable. It isn't often you see Japanese people around here. Good day." Mohinder walked away, despite not knowing where to go.

A few seconds later, Mohinder felt a hand on his back. He spun around, and was about to embrace Hiro in relief for coming back, but it turned out to be the Englishman again. "I'm so sorry to have bothered you. I know this might seem a bit strange, but… if you need anything while you're in town, my name is Adam. Adam Taylor."

It was strange. There was no reason for the man to introduce himself. "I'm Mohinder, um, Renjen." It occurred to Mohinder that with his family all around, he could hardly go by his real name.

"Pleasure to meet you. Where did you say you were staying?"

Mohinder knew he hadn't in fact said anything of the sort. He tried to think of a hotel that would have existed in this time. "The Magnifique."

"Excellent choice," Adam replied with a lopsided smile. "So am I."


	2. Chapter 2

The day was waning and the market closing up, but still, Hiro had not returned.

After saying another, firmer, "good day" to the curious Englishman, Mohinder had continued on his way through the market. There was a chance that Hiro would reappear a few hours later, and in the meanwhile, it made sense to keep on task. Also, having a purpose meant that Mohinder would feel less inclined to just sit down and freak out. After another twenty minute walk, Mohinder finally reached his grandparents' house. According to his plan, he hung around and waited for a servant to pass by. When one finally did, he inquired about the address of Chandra Suresh, and got it, but was told that the family was out of town. The servants had no idea when they would return.

Discouraged, Mohinder turned around and trudged back through the city. By this time he was hot and hungry, so he bought a soda and some street food for his dinner. He passed by the sari stall where the incident had happened and had an idea. The bright colors made it an easy landmark in the busy market, and Hiro would probably return here. Mohinder asked the salesman if he remembered the Japanese man who had been there earlier. Upon receiving an answer in the affirmative, Mohinder requested that in the case that Hiro came back, the man tell him that Mohinder was staying at the Hotel Magnifique under the name Mohinder Renjen. It was the first name that had come to mind when talking to the Adam, and it was the best idea he could think of even now.

Wearied and beginning to despair, Mohinder walked into the hotel lobby at about ten. People were milling about, full from dinner but not wanting to go to bed yet. The hotel was a striking edifice in the southern part of town that dated back to the end of the British days. He had always considered it a landmark, but had never actually been inside. As a child there had never been a reason, and during his year teaching at the university, he had never had an occasion.

Mohinder went to reception and asked for the least expensive room possible. It was a depressing thought, but if he was to be here for a long time, he needed to conserve as much of his cash as possible. It had seemed like a ludicrous amount back when he had been planning a mere day-trip into the past, but now that he was potentially stuck here, Mohinder wished that he had added a few thousand more. When asked how long he intended to stay, Mohinder paused and said he didn't know. The woman behind the desk was probably used to such answers and didn't react, but Mohinder felt a wave of nausea crash over him.

As he was walking through the enormous lobby towards the elevators, Mohinder was startled by a firm hand on his shoulder and panting, announcing that someone had just run up to him.

"Renjen! Are you deaf, man? I've been shouting your name. I was starting to make a scene." The overly friendly young Englishman from the market was leaning on him for support as he caught his breath.

Mohinder realized that if he was to continue on here indefinitely (horrors), he had better start getting used to his false name. In the meantime… "Oh, hello. Sorry. Nice to see you again. Yes, of course, you said you were staying here. Call me Mohinder."

Adam looked pleased at what appeared to be a token of increased intimacy. "And call me Adam. A pleasure, again." Adam gestured to the lobby bar, which was fitted out like an old-fashioned English gentleman's club, with leather couches and dark woods. "You aren't heading out, are you? Would you care to join us for a drink?"

Mohinder couldn't make the excuse that he needed to put his things in his room, because he had claimed to have already been checked in. Nor could he think of another excuse, since technically he was new to even existing in this time, much less having previous engagements. "I suppose I can, for a few minutes," he accepted.

"Excellent, excellent." Adam led Mohinder to a corner of the room where an attractive young woman with large eyes and auburn hair sat nursing a gimlet. She looked questioningly at Adam as Mohinder approached. "Mohinder, this is Victoria Pratt, my… traveling companion. Victoria, this is Mohinder Renjen, whom I met today in the market."

"It's very nice to meet you, Victoria. How do you do?" Mohinder enquired as Adam motioned for everyone to sit.

"Fine, thanks," she said.

While Adam ordered Mohinder some wine and got another glass of mineral water for himself, Mohinder thought he saw Victoria frown in disappointment, presumably at being described merely as a 'traveling companion'.

She had a shy, innocent demeanor, and an American accent. Of the two of them, it was clear that Adam did most of the talking in whatever relationship it was that they had. "You two met in the market?" she asked.

"Yes," Adam began. "The most extraordinary thing happened this afternoon while you were off changing money. There was this little Japanese man---you said he was Japanese didn't you?" Adam asked with more pointed interest than Mohinder would have thought mattered. He continued once Mohinder nodded in affirmation. "This Japanese man was walking through the market with Mohinder here, and he just _vanished_."

"I'm sure he just got lost in the crowd and it looked like he vanished," Victoria stated matter-of-factly.

Adam replied to her comment taking without his eyes off Mohinder. "Yes, I know. Of course that's what happened. It's the only logical explanation… But really, you've never seen anything like it. Even Mohinder who was showing him around town didn't know where he had gotten off to. Remarkable, really." Adam leaned back in his seat, continuing to watch Mohinder's every facial move. It was slightly unnerving.

"Yes, it was very strange, I'll give you that," Mohinder replied cautiously.

"You said you met him in this lobby. Does that mean he's staying here?" Adam asked casually while sipping his water.

"I couldn't say. We met here, but who knows if he's a guest or if he was just here for breakfast."

"It shouldn't be hard to find out. Did you catch his name?" Adam asked casually.

"Who cares?" Victoria interjected crossly. "So some guy got lost in the crowd. What's the big deal?"

Adam looked at her for the first time. There was a flash of irritation in his eye that disappeared as he turned back to gaze intently at Mohinder. "I just worry that he got lost."

There was no reason to conceal Hiro's name from these perfectly nice, if overly intense, people, but previous mistakes had taught Mohinder not to put others in danger by giving too much information to strangers, even when no danger was apparent. "No, I didn't catch it. He spoke very quickly and with an accent. I didn't catch the last name at all. Maybe his first name was Hiro… I think? I was kind of nodding and smiling the whole time. You know how it is." Mohinder replied with an attempt at flippancy.

Adam choked on his water. When he had recovered he agreed. "Yes, I do. I ask only because he looked familiar."

"Nah, that's because you've got Japan on the brain. You're going to think any Japanese person we run into here looks familiar," Victoria said and patted Adam on the arm. She turned to Mohinder. "We just arrived from Tokyo this morning," she explained with a smile.

"Oh did you?" Mohinder asked with relief, glad to be back on a safe topic of conversation. "What took an Englishman and an American so far?"

Adam still looked lost in thought even as he replied. "We were attending the wedding of a Japanese friend of ours. Lavish affair. The family's got pots of money. We were there for a few weeks, taking care of some common business in addition to the wedding."

"Oh, do you have investments there?" Mohinder asked conversationally.

"Yes," was the undetailed reply.

"Do… do you two work together?" Mohinder asked, for lack of any other topics.

Victoria brightened. "Yes, we do," she replied, adoringly putting her hand on Adam's arm. "I'm kind of the factotum, the 'do-everything' for our---" Mohinder couldn't be sure, but he had a feeling that Adam shot her a very quick warning glance. "Um, investment group," she finished lamely.

"Victoria here is our little genius. There's nothing she can't figure out. From science, to machinery, to financial markets, to… oh anything." Adam beamed at her.

"I've just got this knack for knowing how things work," she explained with a shyly pleased shrug.

"She's extremely special," Adam added, and put his arm around her. Victoria melted under his touch and looked validated.

Mohinder knew it had to be coincidental wording, but he found his mind wandering to very different images. "That's… useful," he finally said.

"So, what brings you to Madras, Mohinder?" Adam asked, reclaiming ownership over the conversation.

Mohinder had prepared for this even before the disaster of Hiro's unexpected departure. "I'm hoping to meet some of the professors at the university. I'm a PhD student at Cambridge, and there are some renowned scholars here. I figured I'd travel down here since I'm already in the country visiting family. I'm writing my dissertation now, so I have a flexible schedule."

"What subject do you study?" Victoria asked.

"Genetics. It's a young field, so it's important to meet as many of the few people who study it as possible."

"What a crazy coincidence! We're here to visit a geneticist, too!" she gushed, and looked at Adam. Mohinder had noticed that she looked to him for approval rather often. Adam, for his part, was staring dreamily into his glass, looking up from time to time to stare at Mohinder as if to dissect him.

"Really? Which one?" Mohinder asked, amazed to have found something in common with the young woman.

"Chandra Suresh," she replied. Mohinder couldn't believe his ears.

"Really? But I thought---" Mohinder stopped himself again. There was no logical reason why he should know that a supposedly perfect stranger and his family were out of town. Mohinder realized that he was quickly going to have to get used to weighing every single thing that came out of his mouth.

"What?" Adam asked quickly, noting Mohinder's verbal hiccup.

"Oh nothing," Mohinder answered dismissively. "It's just that he was one of the people I was hoping to meet. How are you two acquainted?"

"Chandra was my TA at Columbia two years ago, when I was an undergraduate, and he was in his last year of his doctorate program."

"Are you a student of genetics, too?"

"No, I was a chemistry and geology double major, but I took a couple of bio classes for fun. Nothing advanced, although I'm sure if I read some books I could figure out… Anyway. Yeah, he was great, and we made friends and kept in touch a little bit. Since we were all the way on this side of the world, I figured I could stop off here and say hi. I've never been to India before. I've never been anywhere, really. This is my first time out of the country."

"I also wanted to see the old city," Adam interjected, bringing the conversation back to him. "It's been too long."

Mohinder looked between the strange couple, unsure which avenue to follow first, but Adam was the more magnetic of the two. "Oh, do you know Madras?"

"Yes, I spent some time here… oh ages ago," he said with a mysteriously smug smile. "I thought it would be fun to tag along and to make sure Victoria doesn't get herself up to any trouble. Also, I'm interested in this new field. From the vague understanding I have of it, it holds a lot of promise for some plans I'd like to pursue down the road."

"It's fascinating, I can assure you. Things are moving really fast right now, and if I remem---" Mohinder stopped himself before he made a mistake and started talking about the present as though it was the past. "But, I was wondering… if it wouldn't be too presumptuous…"

"You'd like an introduction?" Adam finished for him, leaning forward again with a gleam in his eye.

"Yes, if it's possible."

"Of course. We'd love to be of assistance. You can pave the way for our friend here, can't you, Victoria?"

Victoria looked uncomfortable. "Well, I don't know. I mean, it might not be the best time. His kid is really sick. It's been rough. He might not be too welcoming of a crowd of random people. I mean, I'm already bringing you along…"

"Tut, tut. I'm sure it will be fine." Adam interrupted, and waved her concerns away with a hand, keeping his eyes on Mohinder. "We're scheduled to visit their home tomorrow morning. Join us." The words were innocuous, but Adam's intensity somehow made them sound like more than simply a friendly invitation.

Mohinder couldn't believe his luck. "I can't thank you enough," he said. Something told him that Victoria still wasn't completely happy with this, though. "If you don't think it would be too much of an imposition, that is."

Victoria looked over at Adam who was beaming at her with loving encouragement. "I guess it'll be alright," she mumbled.

"It's all settled then. We're leaving at ten. Let's meet here," Adam continued.

"Alright. Speaking of which, I should probably head upstairs. It's been a long day. It was nice meeting you, though. I'll see you in the morning." Mohinder shook hands with both of them and left the couple sitting on the couch.

"...very pretty..." he faintly heard Adam remark just before he moved out of earshot. Mohinder wasn't sure to what or to whom the adjective was referring.

He took the elevator to the second floor and located his room on the hallway of the oldest wing of the hotel. It was tiny and dimly lit, definitely the lowest end of the spectrum in the otherwise fancy building. Feeling like a bank robber in an action movie, Mohinder emptied the contents of his leather bag onto the bed. Rolls of cash cascaded out, some in rupees, but most in dollars, as he hadn't seen the need to change more than a few dollars earlier in the day. After an extra shake, a change of clothes, xeroxes of files about the virus, his passport, and some other odds and ends fell out, too.

This was officially all he owned in the world.

Mohinder climbed over the bed to reach the safe. Accustomed to electrically operated safes in hotel rooms, this old-fashioned model took him a little longer to figure out. Mohinder put everything except the clothes and some cash in the safe, and then plopped down on the edge of the bed, holding his head in his hands. He hadn't purchased pajamas or any general travel necessities, mostly because he had been in denial that he would need them.

As he stripped down to his boxers and climbed between the sheets, Mohinder tried and failed not to worry. He wondered in passing what this might mean for his life at home, but quickly dismissed the issue. When---and it was when, dammit, not if---Hiro came back, he would simply take them back to the moment they had left… wouldn't he? It stood to reason that that's what would happen, but if it was a guarantee, then why hadn't he come back within a few minutes of leaving?

Now panic-stricken, Mohinder's mind went to Hiro's story about 2011, in a future after Peter had exploded… strange how in that future Sylar had died and been blamed, when Mohinder knew it had been Peter who exploded… Regardless, what if Mohinder had already done something to plunge him into a different and tangential timeline? What if that's why Hiro hadn't been able to come back? And if so, what the hell was he supposed to do? Should he start thinking about making his life here? In this now? Rather than keeping his money in a safe, should he start speculating on the stock and foreign exchange markets?

It was too much and too scary to think about. One thing at a time. With heartbroken resignation, Mohinder made a mental note to buy a toothbrush and an extra outfit in the hotel's shop downstairs the next morning.

A couple of hours later, the street food he had eaten revolted in his stomach, and he spent the rest of the night in the toilet.

**************************************************

"I see the kid. She's waiting for Suresh to pick her up. Seems like he's late, but when he gets here, I'll tail them back to the apartment and keep an eye on them from there. I haven't been able to find him all day, but she doesn't seem to be going home with anyone else, so I'm sure he's on his way."

"Well, not being able to find him won't be a problem for long," the voice on the other end of the line said. "Remember, we need her here for testing tomorrow. The lab's ready. There's a lot of work to be done---"

"Like locating Sylar."

"Yes, and others too. Hopefully she'll be capable of a premature stretching of her ability."

"I'm working on something to get her out of school after Suresh drops her off. Or a plan B in case he decides not to send her to school. I'll keep you posted. Bye, sir." The man in the car across the street from Molly's school closed his cell phone. He continued to look between his watch and his rearview mirror at the little girl waiting in front of the school building. She was dialing a number on her phone. When no one seemed to pick up, she concentrated on something, and looked both confused and terrified at the result of whatever it was she was thinking about.

After a few more minutes of watching Molly's increasing distress, the agent had had enough of waiting. He exited his car and began crossing the street to approach the school. Impossibly, a street lamp hanging above the street happened to split in two at that moment. A hundred pounds of steel crashed down on his head, killing him immediately. Before any of the terrified passersby could get close enough to notice, the man's cell phone and business portfolio flew out of his satchel and over to a shadowy corner near the school.

Although she didn't stray from her bench in front of the school, Molly, like everyone else on the block, strained to get a look at the accident victim. When she finally gave up due to her small stature, she slumped back down into her seat and turned to look at the person who had sat down next to her. Before she could vocalize the scream that was in her eyes, Sylar clamped his hand over her mouth.

"You can either come with me, or stay here and get captured and experimented on by the company," he said, nodding his head in the direction of the body.

Sylar watched Molly's face as she went through what must have been a variety of thoughts. After a moment, she inexplicably handed him her phone with imploring eyes. He looked at her quizzically. "I already have one, thanks," he said flatly. He felt her jaw slacken in his hand as she seemed to stop wanting to scream. Sylar decided to chance it and let her speak.

"Call Mohinder!" she squeaked.

"What?" Sylar asked in surprise.

"Mohinder told me to tell you to call him if you came after me." Even though her voice trembled, Molly had on what was obviously her bravest face.

"Oh did he?" Sylar raised his eyebrows in smug derision before becoming serious again. "You've been trying that, though, and he hasn't picked up. Come on." He pocketed the phone anyway, just in case she might try to text for help.

They walked very quickly through the neighborhood with Sylar keeping a firm grasp on Molly's shoulder to keep her from running away. She tried screaming for help again at one point, but Sylar used telekinesis to keep her jaw shut.


	3. Chapter 3

Molly eased her jacket off and backed fearfully into a corner of the living room. She watched Sylar warily as he put his things down, stretched his limbs, and generally made himself at home. He radiated a strange sense of calm and belonging as he walked around. After settling in, he finally turned back to face her.

"So, where is he?" Sylar asked with direct simplicity.

The combination of Mohinder's disappearance and finding herself alone with Sylar proved too much for the little girl. Tears began to well up in Molly's eyes. "I don't know," she whispered.

Sylar rolled his eyes and stared coldly at her. "We both know that's impossible."

"Why don't you just leave us alone? Why do you even care?" Molly lashed out. When Sylar didn't respond, she sighed and gave up. "I really can't find him," she confessed with a hint of fear in her voice, about both Sylar and Mohinder.

Sylar could see she was telling the truth. "Does that mean… is he dead?" he asked quickly, with an almost imperceptible catch in his voice that he was glad Molly didn't seem to notice.

"No, that's the thing," she explained hesitantly, understandably not enjoying having to explain her ability to someone who had once tried to take it. "When people are dead, I can't see them at all. It's just, like, fuzz. But before, at school, I kept looking for him, and I could see him, but he's nowhere."

"What does that mean?" Sylar kept his face stern so as not to betray any concern he felt.

"I don't know," Molly replied dejectedly. "This has never happened before."

The landline rang. Sylar stalled for a couple of seconds as he formulated a plan. He pointed to the sofa. "Sit there, and don't do anything you'll regret," he threatened, and picked up. "Hello?" he murmured, in a muffled, almost inaudible whisper.

"Mohinder? It's Matt. Why are you whispering? Is everything alright?"

Sylar shut his eyes for a moment. His mouth was closed, but a voice spoke nonetheless, in rich, accented tones that annunciated all the consonants and purred the vowels. Mohinder's voice was so clear and lifelike that he might have been in the room with them, speaking into the phone.

"Yes, of course, everything's fine. I just had food in my mouth. You won't believe it. The most unlikely occurrence took place today outside of Molly's school. A street light fell on a man as he crossed the road. Molly was well out of the way, but she saw the whole thing, so she's a little shaken, but doing fine. There was blood everywhere." There was a pause as Matt took just a little too long to reply. "Hello? Are you there?"

"Yeah, I'm here… Er, what's with the phone sex operator voice?" Matt asked with embarrassment.

Sylar scowled, but scaled back a bit on the luxuriousness of the voice. "How is everything on your end?"

"Not so great. We got attacked today, but I fended him off, whoever he was. Someone's still after us, even with Nathan in his hospital bed. I've been trying to get more backup while Peter's been trying to think of what to do. That's all, really. Scary about the street light. I'd be worried that it was something more, but since you two are fine, then maybe it really was just an accident. Just be careful, Mohinder. You know how I feel about this crazy decision to stay in the apartment when that lunatic is out there and I'm not around to protect you two."

Sylar made a variety of disbelieving facial expressions upon hearing this from a guy he remembered having plugged with four of his own bullets. However, before he had decided upon a response, Sylar was interrupted by an unexpected assault. Molly had darted the across the room and flung herself at him, screaming and beating his legs with small fists. He immediately summoned a couch cushion and pressed it against her face while holding her arms behind her back.

"What's that noise? Is Molly ok?" Matt asked, the worry back in his voice.

"Yes, she's fine," the disembodied Mohinder voice calmly replied as Sylar immobilized her kicking legs with his mind. "She just broke a vase, that's all. I should probably go clean it up before she cuts herself on glass. She says hi."

A voice that came not from Molly, but rather from empty space far across the room shouted, "Hi Matt!" in a cheery way that contrasted dramatically with the violently squirming figure at Sylar's feet.

"Aw, give her my love as usual."

"Of course. Let me know if anything happens. Goodnight." Sylar hung up and stared silently down at Molly, who was still struggling. He released the cushion from over her face and watched her with irritated curiosity while still holding her firmly by the arms. She winced at his grip.

"You can't you can't you can't!" she shouted breathlessly. "You're not allowed to do that. You're not allowed to use it... I hate you," She ran out of steam and fell apart at Sylar's feet. "I hate you," she whimpered, and dissolved into tears.

Sylar thought back to where he had gotten that particular ability. A flash of understanding passed across his face, but he didn't otherwise react.

"Try again. Try again to look for Mohinder" he said, ignoring her distress. She continued to sob, and he waited a minute before renewing his request. "Molly," he insisted, this time more gently.

"Leave me alone," she retorted.

Sylar was quickly losing his patience. "First, try looking for someone you know is in a normal place. Something easy, for comparison." It had occurred to Sylar that perhaps this mysterious virus was everywhere. Maybe Molly was also sick, leading to an inability to find Mohinder with her power. However, that still didn't explain why the man hadn't come to the school or shown up at the apartment.

She glared at him with eyes still filled with tears. Then she closed them and thought hard. "My teacher. Ms. Cohen. She's in Union Square," she reported back with a sob.

"Now look for someone who's dead," Sylar ordered.

"Same as usual. Nothing. Fuzz," she replied after a moment. Her jaw was set defiantly as she announced this, wordlessly daring him to ask who she had looked for.

"Now try Mohinder again," he continued, as if nothing was wrong. Sylar felt a surge of hunger as he watched and listened. It was so simple, so practical, and it was wasted on a little girl who used it to look for her daddies. However, a deal was a deal, and with a sigh, Sylar unclenched his fists and forced himself to suppress the desire to forget all about his deal with Mohinder and his plans of revenge on the company.

Molly spent longer than usual on this before giving up with a frightened sigh. "Still weird. Just like a floating Mohinder in nothingness."

It was indeed strange. "Alright. That's enough for now. Do your homework, or something, and keep quiet," he barked before walking away. Molly slumped on the couch and glared at him for awhile before pulling her school books out of her bag.

Sylar busied himself among the cabinets and the refrigerator. It had been a long time since he'd had a chance to cook for himself, and he missed it. His many months on the road looking for new abilities had meant night after night of cheap motels and diner food. Even if by some miracle his old apartment was still waiting for him after four rentless months, he could hardly go back---not with his name on a wanted list for questioning about his mother's death. This made it doubly pleasant to find himself here in Mohinder's apartment again---the closest place he had come to calling home in almost a year.

Even with the introduction of little girl things and the random cop's few necessities, Sylar still saw the apartment as completely Mohinder's; the geneticist's presence, even in absence, vastly outweighed theirs. For one thing, the other two hadn't seemed to have affected Mohinder's kitchen set-up or grocery selection. In addition, the mess that Sylar had always secretly longed to clean was still there and consisted of the same shit, including countless scraps of paper covered in Mohinder's distinctive chicken scratch strewn all over the place. There was even a new and typically hideous lighting fixture illuminating the kitchen that only Mohinder could have picked out. It was strange; when Chandra had occupied the apartment, it felt transient, and devoid of personality, even though many of the items were the same. It wasn't until Sylar returned there with Mohinder that it felt like someone's home. As Sylar chopped vegetables, he became lost in thought as he tried to imagine what might have happened to the man.

Half an hour later, lentil soup was bubbling on the stove.

"Hey," he called out. The unpleasant awkwardness of the situation hit Sylar fully for the first time. He was too important to be spending his time babysitting some bratty kid---in Sylar's opinion, Mohinder should have been above it---but it would be pointless to starve her. Sylar dished out a bowl's worth of soup and put it down on the table along with his own.

Molly set aside her books and walked hesitantly to the table.

"Is that… Are you going to poison me?" she asked nervously, but at the same time, she eyed the soup hungrily.

"Just shut up and eat," he commanded as he sat down. "If I were going to poison you, it wouldn't be with soup," he continued with a wry smile, and chuckled at the joke he was sure only he got.

Molly looked at him in confusion before sliding into her customary seat. Sylar sat across from her, in the spot that had been unofficially his during his brief time as a welcome occupant of the apartment, and which these days Matt usually took. They ate in stony silence, both painfully aware of the empty chair between them at the small square table. Molly glanced angrily up at Sylar from time to time, as if she wanted to say something cutting but lacked the nerve. Although Sylar saw these glances through the corner of his eye, he refused to look directly at her. When she was finished eating, Molly scuttled out of her seat and washed her bowl before going back to her books.

After cleaning up, Sylar sat down with the items he had taken from the company agent. Searching through the cell phone's memory, he discovered that the voice his extra-sensitive hearing had heard on the other end of the line belonged to someone named Bob Bishop. Scrolling through the address book and call records, he saw that the people the dead man spoke to most often were Bob and a few other men listed only with first names, who he assumed were just friends, not business associates. Sylar smirked to himself when he saw Noah Bennet's number in there, too, but it seemed that the man had started to talk to him only in the past couple of days.

Having gleaned everything he could from the cell phone, Sylar opened the leather business portfolio with the word "Primatech" embossed on the cover. There were only a few pieces of paper inside it, mostly pertaining to Mohinder. There was a short write-up of his resume, address, phone number, habits, recent associates (only Molly, Matt, and Bennet were listed---it seemed as though Mohinder hadn't made many more friends since Sylar had last seen him), along with a picture.

Sylar was disappointed. After spending a couple of days getting his bearings and reacquainting himself with his abilities, he had taken stock of his options and future. The allure of the cheerleader's ability was stronger than ever, but he assumed that with his return and open admission to Mohinder that he had been snooping into her file (he now cursed himself for not looking up more people when he had the chance), the company would have assigned an extra set of guards to protect her. All the more reason to focus his efforts on infiltrating and destroying the organization. But he knew almost nothing about it, except where the facility was in Texas, and now Mohinder's lab in Manhattan. _This_ was why he needed Mohinder, Sylar reminded himself. This was the reason why he had waited outside Molly's school that day, since, failing to find him at either the apartment or lab, it was one place Sylar was reasonably sure to catch him.

Something about Mohinder's reaction when discovering that the company had purposefully injected Sylar with the virus had convinced him that the doctor hadn't wholly bought into their organization, and now it was clear that they hadn't wholly bought into him. Sylar had reasoned that if Mohinder and the company were truly at odds, maybe he could be persuaded into sharing information to further a common goal. Mohinder would have resisted, of course, but the argument would have been fun. However, with Mohinder's mysterious disappearance, Sylar needed to think of a new plan.

He noticed the laptop sitting on the desk just as it had been a few days ago when he was last in this apartment. He was surprised to see that Mohinder hadn't set some privacy controls on it even after the other day, but understood once he saw that most of the documents had been deleted. There was an icon marked Primatech, but when he clicked on it, a box popped up asking for his username and password.

Sylar wheeled the chair around to glower at Molly, who was reading on the couch.

"Did Mohinder ever tell you the password to get Company access?"

Molly looked startled at finding herself addressed. She bit her pencil eraser. "You mean on the computer?"

"Yes, obviously."

"LaNerthe72," she said after a minute. Sylar assumed she had given in so easily because she didn't think he'd be able to do anything too harmful with this information, given that in this at least, they were fighting a common enemy.

However, something about her response didn't seem right. He eyes drifted over to the wine rack, where Mohinder lovingly stored his favorite bottles of red. The label of Château La Nerthe could be seen on almost every one. Sylar remembered that rack from his days as Zane, as well as Mohinder's endearingly impassioned discussions of the region and its best years, which included 1972. Molly must have misunderstood the question.

"I meant company network access, not the password to Mohinder's personal documents," Sylar clarified.

Molly had followed Sylar's glance, and nodded in comprehension. "I know. That's actually the only reason it came up. Because he thought it was such a funny coincidence."

This surprised Sylar. "Are you saying the password was pre-existing from before he joined the company last week?"

"Yeah, that's why he thought it was so weird. Mohinder told me that Mr. Bishop told him it's like the oldest password at the company. They use it for a bunch of stuff, so people only have to remember a few different ones. What?" she added, when she noticed Sylar's furrowed brow.

Sylar simply wheeled back around. He could feel Molly's eyes boring into his back and heard her shrug before turning another page in her book.

He typed the password into the laptop. A new window opened. It seemed that Mohinder only had a certain clearance level of access (perhaps it had been scaled back when they started to conspire against him), but there was still enough to interest Sylar. By rooting around on the site, he found the page from whence the information he had seen the other day about Claire came. It was in a subsection dealing with the virus. There was another page in the same area about Molly. Sylar read with interest about how she had suffered from the more basic strain that had killed Mohinder's sister.

This solved the mystery of what the hell this kid was doing living in Mohinder's apartment. It had baffled Sylar for the past few days, but there hadn't been time to discover the reason. Between having watched their dynamic a few days earlier and now seeing how she reacted to Mohinder's loss, Sylar could see that this wasn't parental; it was fraternal, and at most, avuncular. Typical Mohinder, still trying thirty years too late to make up for something he had failed to accomplish in his babyhood.

When he had read all he could see on the site, Sylar looked over at Molly, who was now dozing on the couch. He went into her bedroom and searched it from top to bottom to make sure that there was nothing in it that might allow her to escape or contact someone. As he finished, he heard Molly approach.

"Get out of my room!" she yelled. Sylar ignored her temper and kept his voice cold and calm.

"It's time for you to go to bed. I don't know what will happen tomorrow, but you might need to be ready for anything. So, go do whatever it is you do at night and then stay in here," he demanded.

Molly pouted, not liking being told to get ready for bed by her parents' killer any more than Sylar liked having to do it, but she obeyed quietly. Once she was finished, she went into her room. Before shutting the door, she turned to face him and declared, "I'm not afraid of you. Neither is Mohinder."

"Goodnight, Molly," Sylar snarled through gritted teeth without looking up from the kitchen counter where he was now making some tea. He heard her slam the bedroom door. Sylar quietly barricaded it with a chair so she wouldn't be able to creep out in the night.

With Molly finally out of earshot and out of his hair, Sylar could now make the phone call he needed to make in peace. The dead man had told Bob Bishop that he would keep him posted. Bob picked up on the third ring.

"Hello Dave," Bob said.

This was going to be a delicate game to play.

Sylar's eidetic memory gave him a perfect recollection of the dead man's Texan twang. This ability-driven projection was infinitely better than the Southern accent he himself was capable of assuming. "Hi, I'm just calling you with an update. Suresh picked Molly up from school and took her home shortly after I talked to you."

"Wonderful. How's the wiretapping you put in the apartment today working? Can you get reception in the car?

Sylar got up and started walking around the apartment, feeling for fresh disturbances in the walls. "It's working great. I'm parked right outside the building," he had the dead man's voice reply as he located the cord and ripped it from a place where two walls met.

"Have you heard his plans? Is he going to get on the plane with Elle tomorrow?" Bob asked.

"He's giving in and planning to head off to the airport at around 10am. He doesn't think he has any other options. His plan is to send Molly to school and have her ask to stay with a friend of hers overnight. The parents are in the FBI or something. It doesn't really matter. I'll come by in the afternoon and feed the school administration some line. We should get to the lab by around four."

"Good work, Dave," Bob complimented.

"Thanks, sir," Sylar replied, but the sarcastic look on his face didn't match the earnestness of the words he was projecting. He wasn't sure what more he could ask without giving himself away. "Anything else?"

"No, that's all for tonight. I'll see you in Hartsdale the day after tomorrow; I won't be there when you drop her off, but the doctors will take care of her until I arrive. Goodnight." Bob disconnected.

Hartsdale? Sylar had assumed they meant Mohinder's lab. He went back to the computer to verify the address for this new location. That done, he mentally formed a schedule for the next couple of days. The only kink in the works was Mohinder. Sylar could create sounds, but the girl in Mexico's power hadn't taken, even after his recovery, so he couldn't make full illusions like she could. What would happen when Mohinder didn't show up? And where the hell was he? Sylar's concern was offset by the delicious thought that in the case of his safe return, the gratitude Mohinder would be forced to show Sylar for having rescued his ward from company experiments would be hugely satisfying and amusing. Sylar smiled to himself in hopeful anticipation of that moment.

He looked around to assure himself that the apartment was secure for the night before moving into the bathroom. He used a new toothbrush he found in the medicine cabinet and took a shower. Overlooking what must have been Matt's Gillette, Sylar then shaved with Mohinder's little-used straight-blade razor, not knowing if he would have time in the morning to do so. Clad in only a towel, he entered Mohinder's bedroom and searched through the drawers for the longest of the shorter man's pajama pants he could find. It was clear that there was an impending laundry crunch, because there were no clean tee-shirts, so Sylar pulled on a once-worn white undershirt Mohinder had left draped over a chair. It fit snugly against his chest and retained just a hint of Mohinder's sweat and cologne. Sylar moved aside the papers and clothes that had been left on the unmade bed---god, Mohinder was a slob---and, with a sigh that escaped his lips for no reason that he cared to ponder, climbed in to lie on the left side. He forced his mind to stop listening and stop thinking, and finally drifted off into a semi-restless slumber. Something about the thing with the wine was bothering him. He couldn't put his finger on why.


	4. Chapter 4

Mohinder squinted weakly at the bright sunshine coming through the large window. He was lying in an improbable position, half on and half off the bed, where he had landed after spending the majority of the night in the toilet.

It was only seven am. Staggering around the small bedroom, Mohinder pulled yesterday's clothes on and made his way downstairs, clutching his head and groaning almost every step of the way. Mercifully, the lobby boutique was open. He bought a large bottle of water, some general hygiene products, two pairs of slacks, and three shirts before going back upstairs. He was now set for the rest of the week. After that he'd start thinking more seriously about what to do in the long term, if necessary.

At 9:55 he put some cash in his pocket, and headed back down to the lobby. He forced himself to perk up by reminding himself that this was what he had come for. Despite the general catastrophe he found himself in, he had managed to arrange a miraculously perfect introduction to his own family. On that front, at least, things couldn't have worked out better than if he had planned them that way.

Mohinder's new friends were already waiting for him in the lobby. Adam beamed brightly as he spotted Mohinder, but as he studied him more closely, the smile was replaced with worry.

"Are you alright? You look awful," he said.

Mohinder managed a weak smirk. "You're so kind." He put up a hand to stop Adam's immediate stream of apologies. "No, no, you're correct. I ate something that disagreed with me last night. You know how it is in India."

Victoria frowned. "But that doesn't usually happen to natives, does it? Only recently arrived tourists. And you said you've been here for a couple of weeks, right?"

"I think it can happen to anyone," Mohinder said. "But it's fine. I'm ready to go if you are."

They had only just met, but Mohinder could tell that this woman's knack for seeing through everything might prove to be a thorn in his side.

***********************************************

They squeezed into a Mini auto rickshaw and Adam conversationally grilled Mohinder about his time at Cambridge. Mohinder answered as best he could, doing a good job of mentioning only timeless aspects of his experience without actually lying. This turned out to be a good tactic, since Adam later revealed that he had studied at Oxford, and was familiar with the Cambridge campus.

They finally arrived at a medium-sized bungalow in a newer part of town. As Victoria rang the bell, Adam turned to look at Mohinder.

"You seem nervous," he observed, and gave Mohinder a warm pat on the shoulder.

Mohinder took a deep breath. "No, just excited. I suppose I'm also slightly worried about my reception here. I'm aware that it's slightly bizarre of me to show up here like this, at the house of perfect strangers, and in the company of people I only met yesterday."

"Don't worry about it. I'll take care of everything," Adam replied with supreme confidence, as he smoothed his shirt down and ran his fingers through his wavy hair.

Mohinder was about to sarcastically inquire how exactly he intended to take care of it, when he had never met the Sureshes either, but he was cut short by the opening of the door.

Mohinder had spent much of the previous night wondering what this moment would be like. Would it be creepy, like a resurrection? Or would it feel quite real, like the last time he had seen his father, which had been in that Sanjog-inspired vision? Or would it simply be like seeing a stranger?

It was none of the above. Upon seeing Chandra through the door, Mohinder felt like he had turned on an old movie with a very famous actor. There was only one-way knowledge; Mohinder knew all about the other man, while Chandra had no idea who he was. Also, like an actor in an old film, Mohinder knew that his father should look much older. Chandra hadn't spent much time at home during Mohinder's childhood, so he didn't have a clear mental image of what he should look like. He'd also never been shown pictures from this period, something that had, of course, been given an explanation the last time he'd visited his mother and learned about Shanti.

Speaking of Shanti, while Mohinder was still reeling from the sight of his father after all these months---hell, a lifetime---of angst regarding him, small hands appeared on Chandra's knees. They were quickly followed by small legs and a small face---the same face that Mohinder had seen in the picture in Thompson's office. While Chandra swept Victoria in a warm hug, Shanti's eyes and smile were quietly fixed on Mohinder.

"Chandra, this is Adam, the man I've been telling you about," Victoria announced, not yet noticing the little girl peering shyly from behind Chandra's legs.

"Ah yes. It's a treat to finally meet you," Chandra said, as he shook Adam's hand.

"It's always a pleasure to meet Victoria's other mentors," Adam replied sunnily, but still subtly making it clear that he ranked foremost among them.

"And this is Mohinder, who, ah…" Here Victoria faltered for a moment. Chandra looked from Victoria to Mohinder quizzically, but Adam smoothly picked up the slack.

"He's a recent acquaintance, but my goal is to have him become another colleague like Victoria here. Mohinder's actually a member of your field and an admirer of your work. Victoria and I thought it would be good for you two to meet and discuss theories. I hope it isn't rude or inconvenient."

"No, not at all. It's nice to meet you," Chandra said unconvincingly, and shook Mohinder's hand while giving him a weird look.

"Thank you so much. It's an honor," Mohinder stammered, and glanced at Adam in surprise. 'Become another colleague'? What was he talking about? Whatever it was, it had eased through the awkward moment, and for that, Mohinder flashed Adam a grateful smile as Chandra ushered them inside. Adam replied with a conspiratorial wink.

"You must be Shanti!" Victoria gushed, and knelt down to give the little girl a hug.

"Yes," Chandra beamed proudly as Shanti whispered a shy 'hi.' Adam's scrunched face betrayed that he didn't feel very comfortable around children, but there was something else, too, as his blue eyes looked at both Chandra and Shanti in a new and surprised way.

Even though it wasn't the mansion he was accustomed to, the house was airy and comfortable. Mohinder remembered stories his mother had told them about their very pleasant, but less opulent, life in the days before Chandra was promoted in the university and before both sets of Mohinder's grandparents died, leaving them a windfall.

"Your home is beautiful," Mohinder said, as they entered a sunny parlor.

"Thank you. You're actually lucky to find us here. We just returned from Bombay very late last night. We rushed back because I knew you were ariving."

"Is Anjali here? It'll be so nice to see her again. I only met her that once," Victoria said sweetly.

"Yes, she should be somewhere about. I was just wondering why she didn't come down when the doorbell rang. She knows we're expecting visitors," Chandra said with irritation.

"What were you doing up in Bombay?" Adam asked.

"We were visiting some doctors," Chandra replied flatly before clearing his face of briefly held displeasure. "So, what have you been doing with yourself, Victoria? You send me such interesting letters about what seems to be strange work."

Victoria proceeded with pride. "Well, it's sort of a not-for-profit that Adam, myself, and a few others started. We basically take on various projects to help improve the world. It's all a little hush hush, but we've had amazing success so far."

"Sounds expensive," Chandra mused. Mohinder remembered that his father had always been preoccupied by the limitations of academic funding and grants, and despite his family wealth, this perspective colored his analysis of other people's situations.

"We're privately funded," Adam explained. "Originally we started the organization with my own money, but we now have a fantastic financial backer with almost unlimited resources. The number of projects we can now take on is extraordinary."

For some reason, Mohinder got the feeling that this was directed much more towards him than to Chandra, and he remembered Adam's remark at the doorway. "Is it the Japanese family you were visiting?" he asked.

Adam smiled and looked pleased at Mohinder's interest. "No, someone with access to infinitely more funds than even they." Mohinder whistled, impressed, while Victoria tried not to giggle about something.

Chandra smiled paternally. "That sounds perfect for you, Victoria. You always had such high ideals. Now you get to make a real difference."

"Adam's a great inspiration," Victoria asserted.

With the rotten timing that was characteristic of many things in his life, at this point in the conversation, Mohinder felt a wave of nausea pass over him. He thought he had finished being sick from the night before, but apparently not. He fought with himself for a second because he wanted to stay and talk, but he knew it was best to leave the room.

"Could you point me in the direction of the restroom?" Mohinder asked his father.

"End of the hallway, second door on the right," he pointed.

Mohinder followed the directions down the long hallway to the far end of the house. As he approached the bathroom, he heard some unpleasant noises. The door wasn't locked, and he hesitantly entered to find a woman crouched beside the toilet. She looked up at him, and Mohinder was faced with the embodiment of a thousand of his earliest memories. This was completely different from seeing his father. _This_ was stepping back in time to a real image that he remembered, not watching it on some dispassionate, yet overly realistic imaginary movie screen. This was how Mohinder had always thought of his mother, even now that he was an adult and time had passed (or not, as it happened today): looking beautiful, but hiding some secret pain.

He was still staring when he saw her begin to heave. Forgetting that he was a perfect stranger, Mohinder shut the door behind him, gently pulled her hair out of her face, and supported her weight while she vomited into the toilet. As she panted in recovery, he poured her a glass of water from the bottle on the sink. Without even looking up, with his other hand he instinctively reached for the can of bicarbonate of soda that always sat on top of the medicine cabinet and poured some in the water---just as she had always done for him when he was ill. She smiled weakly at him as he handed her the glass and sat down on the edge of the tub.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Varun?" she finally asked between sips, sounding terribly unsure. Mohinder remembered his encounter the day before.

"No, but I think I must look like someone you know---a Varun Suresh, I'm assuming? Yesterday, someone in the street called me Suresh," Mohinder replied innocently, as if he didn't know perfectly well that this was fact, rather than conjecture. Now that it was being brought up again, it explained the disconcerted looks Chandra had been shooting at him.

"Yes, he's one of my husband's brothers. The resemblance is remarkable. But if you aren't him, then who are you?" Anjali curled up with her back against the wall and sipped delicately.

"My name is Mohinder. You must be Anjali." It was all he could do not to hug her, the constant rock he secretly longed for in the middle of such a mess.

She made an effort to pull herself together and be cheerful. "Yes. It's nice to meet you, Mohinder."

Mohinder smiled brightly at her, and got a mirror image of his own grin as a response.

"Are you going to be alright?" he repeated with concern, when they had both finished silently marveling at the sight.

"I'll be fine in a few minutes. Don't worry about me. Did you come with Victoria?"

"Yes, she and another friend are in the parlor with your husband."

Anjali looked mortified. "I'm sorry. I did hear the doorbell ring. I'm sorry I wasn't there to receive you.

"It isn't a problem at all." Mohinder realized that he was staring a little bit inappropriately and tried to tone it down.

"Thank you for everything. You somehow knew exactly what to do," she continued, and then looked around her. "I'm afraid I've made quite a mess. In the meantime, maybe you'd prefer to try the loo upstairs?"

His reply was unfortunately interrupted when the original reason for Mohinder's trip to the bathroom came back to him. He kneeled beside her on the floor just in time. His mother rubbed his back and head comfortingly and gave him the rest of the glass of water and powder. Once Mohinder had recovered and slumped down beside her on the floor, they made eye contact and burst into laughter at the ridiculous situation.

The door opened.

"What is going on in here?" Chandra asked suspiciously, taking in the scene, which looked, if not slightly suspicious, then at least strange. Shanti was still following him around.

Anjali stood up. "Mohinder here isn't feeling well. I happened to catch him on my way to the parlour," she said, while throwing a quick warning glance to Mohinder, who nodded but didn't understand why she was telling a half-truth.

"I'm sorry to hear it," Chandra said coldly. "I've been waiting for you in the living room. We have other guests as well."

"Sorry, Chandra." Mohinder and his mother followed him back to the living room where Adam and Victoria were engaged in passionate whispers about something. They rose to stand when they saw the other three enter.

The women hugged in greeting. Adam introduced himself in his usual dashing manner and kissed her hand. Mohinder had expected his mother to flush and giggle, as most young women did when presented with such gallantry. Instead she just looked at Adam quizzically before addressing the group as a whole.

"I've been terribly remiss as a hostess this morning. Let me get you all some refreshments."

The guests were all about to politely tell her it was alright, but Chandra patted Shanti on the head and told her to go help her mother. Her immediate big smile that signaled she was excited to be made to feel useful, and she ran off into the kitchen. With a slightly jealous knot in his stomach, Mohinder watched Chandra beam after her with a look of unbridled affection that he had never seen his father bestow on anyone. For the umpteenth time, Mohinder thought about how fucked-up his life was: here he was, a grown man feeling sibling rivalry with his (sort of) dead sister. He sighed.

"I don't mean to be rude, but I heard Shanti was ill. However, she seems quite sprightly. I don't quite understand," Adam said, also staring thoughtfully at the still swinging kitchen door.

Chandra nodded. "Her illness is of a singular type, like so many things about her. It isn't so much that she's been technically ill. It just seems as though…" Chandra trailed off, as if trying to figure out how to word what he wanted to say. "She used to be… better, somehow, and then in fits and starts it seemed that something was impeding her full potential."

"Full potential… that's an interesting phrase. What exactly do you mean by that?" Adam asked.

"It's complicated," Chandra replied evasively. "Only recently has she had bouts of true illness. We've been trying to figure out what's wrong, but it's difficult knowing what to ask about and what to look for. The last set of doctors told us that it was a genetic disorder---some sort of virus targeted just towards her. Imagine that; I had to go elsewhere to be told that my child is probably dying of a genetic disorder." He chuckled mirthlessly and took his head into his hands for a moment. Victoria rose from her seat to put her arms around him.

"There's got to be something we can do," she said as she stroked his back. "Adam? Maybe you… you know…" she trailed off.

Adam's response was more curious and reflective than sad. "I don't know. If this is… I honestly don't know."

Mohinder had no idea what they were talking about, so he took advantage of Adam and Victoria's mysterious momentary dysfunction to begin asking his own pre-prepared questions. "When did you first notice that something was wrong?" he asked Chandra.

"Things started around last September, as I said, but sporadically. Again, it's complicated. She's only started having fevers and shakes recently. Not all the time, though, which is why she doesn't seem sick today."

Mohinder's mother and sister returned from the kitchen carrying trays laden with drinks and sandwiches. Adam took a biscuit and leaned back in his chair to chew on both the snack and Chandra's response. His eyes roamed between the three (known) family members, watching their dynamic and the awed way in which they interacted with their child.

While everyone chatted, Adam and Victoria managed to make excited yet silent signals at one another. When they had finished, Adam nodded at her encouragingly. Mohinder watched all this take place out of the corner of his eye.

"We just had an idea," Victoria stated hesitantly, as soon as Shanti went out of the room to do whatever it was that little girls sometimes wandered out of rooms to do. She glanced quickly at Adam for confirmation. "What if we helped you guys with Shanti's condition. I'm sure there's something we could do. We have Mohinder here, who knows all about genetics. I could learn from him and help. You know how quickly I get on speed with things, Chandra. And Adam is really amazing at finding ways to help sick people. He might be able to help, too."

Chandra puzzled over the suggestion with suspicion and jumped when his wife suddenly exclaimed, "That's a wonderful idea, Victoria!" But she looked mostly at Mohinder as she said it. Knowing from a few years of marriage that Chandra was about to blusteringly attempt to contradict her, she grabbed both of her husband's hands and calmed him down. "It can't hurt to try."

"We can't make any promises, but perhaps some good could come out of it," Adam agreed.

"Alright, I suppose," Chandra caved, but was still visibly uncomfortable.

"Well, that settles it. You'll come back later this week, I hope," Anjali said sweetly.

***********************************************

After the interview, despite Adam's friendly remonstrances, Mohinder had insisted on leaving Victoria and Adam alone to make the phone calls that Adam seemed itching to make about something. Mohinder's "errands" were imaginary: people who don't technically exist don't have errands. He had only met them the day before, and despite Adam's obvious desire for Mohinder's company, he still felt weird always hanging around them.

Perhaps it was that very insistence that was making him uncomfortable. Mohinder had forgotten what it was like to have pleasant people voluntarily seek out his company for pleasure. Ever since he had decided to throw himself fully into this life, the only adults he had truly gotten along with had turned out to be psychos, imposters… or both. Well, there was Hiro, but that friendship had only lasted about three hours before the time traveler left Mohinder in the worst pickle of his life. But perhaps that particular observation said more about Hiro than it did about Mohinder.

Mohinder thought about this, as well as the encounter with his family, as he took a walk by himself through the market, for the third time since he had arrived in India. Hope fought against reason as he found himself back at the stall where he had lost his friend. As he approached, the merchant anticipated the question and simply shook his head no. Mohinder kept walking.

***********************************************

At six, Mohinder headed over to a terrace restaurant---one of the best in the city---to meet the others for dinner. When Mohinder arrived, Adam had already charmed the entire waitstaff with his fluent and flawless Tamil.

"Perfect timing," Adam cooed, as he gripped Mohinder's arm in greeting. They'd only known one another for a day, but it was already becoming a kind of customary gesture; it vaguely reminded Mohinder of the two times he had seen the Petrelli brothers interact. A question from earlier in the day came back to him.

"Adam, what was all that before about making me into a colleague of yours? Was that serious, or were you just saying something to get me into the house?"

"I meant it. But don't worry about it right now. One thing at a time. I was just throwing out the idea. You heard a bit about what we do today, and I'll be more than happy to explain further in the future," he urged.

Mohinder bit his lip. "I'm flattered, but I don't even know if it would be worth it. I don't know for how long I'll be here. I might have to leave at any moment."

"And go where?" Victoria asked, before Adam could get out the same question.

"I don't know," Mohinder said. "Ah… back to my hometown. Or back to England. Or elsewhere. At a moment's notice. One day you might find me simply gone. Vanished. I just thought I'd warn you."

Mohinder thought he had played that relatively coolly, but the bird-like curiosity of the previous day returned to Adam's features.

"It's 1977, Mohinder. There are telephones. And telegrams. And a reliable postal service. The only way to vanish from one's acquaintances would be to… I'm not entirely sure. Death. Or something ridiculous, such as time travel." If Adam had been a glasses-wearer, he would have been peering closely at Mohinder over the rims.

Victoria laughed, and Mohinder followed her lead. "Time travel. Oh please. That seems impossible, even for… Hey guys," she interjected into her own remark. "If you could go back in time and meet someone in any point in time, who would you meet? Adam?"

"Myself," he answered without hesitation.

"Um, ok." She didn't seem to know what to say. "What about you, Mohinder?"

Mohinder reply was slow and measured. This was hardly the first time he had thought about it. "I think it would be someone I could possibly save---not just in terms of illness, but… something bigger. Maybe if I could get to the person before they went down a certain path. Like Hitler… or…" Mohinder trailed off.

"Or who?" Adam asked.

"I don't know. You get the idea, though," Mohinder said, feeling slightly foolish now.

"Basically, you'd like to go back and try to convince Stalin not to become Stalin. Stop a villain in the making and turn him into a hero." Adam scoffed, but looked weirdly sad.

"Not necessarily a hero, but…" Mohinder began to reply, but as he wasn't thinking of Stalin at all, he wasn't sure what to say.

"Can't be done," Adam interrupted solemnly. "Don't even think about it. It would probably make things much worse."

There was an awkward pause before Victoria said, "I was going to say Marie Curie, but you guys took that way too seriously."

"I'm sorry, dear," Adam said soothingly, before changing the subject. "So what did you think of all that?" Adam asked, finally getting down to business.

"I assume you mean at the Sureshes," Mohinder clarified.

"Yes, of course," Adam answered. "Do you really think you can help her?"

"Not ultimately," Mohinder replied, finally understanding what Hiro had said about how painful this would be, knowing he could cure her. Thankfully, Victoria and Adam appeared to take the uncertain tone as sign of Mohinder's brain churning rather than his spirits. "But obviously I find any genetic disorder to be fascinating, especially this virus. Even if we can't cure her, this is a fascinating case to study."

Adam leaned forward and his eyes shown with an excited gleam. "My thoughts exactly. I knew when I saw you yesterday that there was something about you… many things, really… and now you turn out to be my lucky star, the one person who can properly investigate this mystery. My instincts almost never let me down. The little girl, too… Shanti… there's definitely something about her, and not just the illness."

"Such as?" Mohinder asked wryly.

"I'm not sure yet. I think I need to see more. Luckily, Anjali Suresh took to you quite remarkably," Adam mused.

"Well, you know what they say: those who vomit together stay together," Mohinder quipped.

Adam cracked up. "I knew I liked you," he said. Then he became serious again. "She was vomiting? Interesting."

Mohinder realized that he had inadvertently said something perhaps he shouldn't have. Was his mother hiding her illness from just Chandra or from everyone? Forgetting where he was, Mohinder clapped his hand to his forehead as he realized what was going on. It was February. He had been born in July. He felt a chill.

"What is it?" Adam asked.

"Nothing. I just remembered that I forgot to call someone before I left Delhi the other day."

"Maybe there's a stomach virus going around," Victoria suggested.

"Yes… or…" Adam mused.

"She's a sweet lady, though," Mohinder said, trying to redirect the conversation.

Adam guffawed. "Sweet? Well, yes, of course, but that's hardly the first word that comes to mind."

Mohinder could feel himself bristling, and hoped Adam wasn't thinking what he thought he was thinking. "And what word _does_ come to mind?" he asked hotly, failing to calm himself down over a woman who wasn't supposed to be anything more to him than just some lady he had met that morning.

"Ungodly beautiful, that's what I'd call her. The two of you would make gorgeous children." Adam looked over at Mohinder with an unmistakably lascivious smile, but reined it in when he saw Mohinder's disgusted expression.

"Ew!" The exclamation slipped past Mohinder's lips before he could stop himself.

"She's alright," Victoria interjected petulantly. "But you shouldn't talk about her like that, Adam. She's married."

"Ew?" Adam had hardly heard Victoria. He was staring at Mohinder and sounded genuinely baffled.

Mohinder saw that he had made yet another mistake and rushed into a rambling explanation. "I don't necessarily mean 'ew.' I just mean that I don't see her like that. She didn't affect me in that way. As Victoria said, she's married."

Mohinder felt a hot blush cover his face and looked down at the table to hide it. He busied himself so intently with the bread and butter that he barely caught the long and questioning look Adam directed towards him for a moment. When he finally laughed heartily and irrelevantly, Mohinder glanced up. A flash of some kind of idea had sparked Adam's features.

"What?" Victoria asked.

"Nothing, love," Adam replied. He took a breath and then smiled at the two of them. "Why don't we all order? I'm famished, and I'm sure Mohinder especially could use something to eat."

Adam leaned over to massage Mohinder's shoulder, as usual, but let his hand linger just a little longer than usual, and creep up a bit into his hair. Mohinder furrowed his brow, but didn't say anything. He was too preoccupied by, well, everything to worry about his overly affectionate new friend.


	5. Chapter 5

Sylar's internal alarm woke him at about 8am. He groused for a bit, as he usually did in the morning. After pulling some fresh socks out of Mohinder's drawer and choosing the only shirt in the closet that was both clean and would fit him, Sylar packed some things for the day into his messenger bag, including Molly's cell phone and the most important-looking of Mohinder's various sheets of notes. He packed up a couple of suitcases with random things and left the bedroom a picture of hurried escape to give would-be intruders the wrong idea (although, given the already existing mess, there wasn't much to do). Sylar headed into the kitchen, and took the phone over to the refrigerator where the number for Molly's teacher was held with a magnet. "Mohinder" left Ms. Cohen a message saying that Molly wasn't doing very well after all and might need to take another day or two off from school.

As he hung up, Sylar found himself transfixed by a photograph he had previously tried his best not to linger on. It was Mohinder and Molly smiling in front of Macy's with a huge balloon of Snoopy behind them---well, Molly, at least, was smiling. Mohinder was looking hopelessly confused and out of place. The Thanksgiving Day parade. That was less than a month after Sylar's trip with Mohinder. Looking at this picture, Sylar remembered the roll of film Mohinder had started while on the road with "Zane." He contemplated the fact that other than the abilities he carried around in his brain, the pictures he and Mohinder had taken were the only tangible keepsakes of this time as something more than Gabriel, the only part of his life worth remembering. He wondered what had happened to them. With a shake of his head, Sylar told himself that this was a futile train of thought. He finally dragged himself away from the refrigerator and moved the barricade away from Molly's bedroom door.

"Get up!" he shouted through the door. "I expect you to be out of there in two minutes." He cringed at his own words and at the entire situation. The sooner Mohinder came back and dealt with her, the better.

Molly soon emerged rubbing her eyes. She was already dressed, and wordlessly went into the bathroom. When she was done, she came into the kitchen, poured herself some cereal, and sat down across from Sylar. He was relieved to find her a groggy morning person. The more asleep she was, the more he was able to tolerate her; she had fewer wherewithals to act defiant.

"So?" she asked sleepily after her first bite. Sylar noticed her looking furtively from his face to his chest, reconciling the concept of Sylar in Mohinder's clothes. But she kept whatever she was thinking to herself.

"You aren't going to school today," he replied matter-of-factly, while staring into the middle distance. "They're expecting Mohinder to go to the airport and go somewhere. When he doesn't come, I assume they'll send people here to look for both of you. So, we've got to get out of here before they realize that the agent they sent to kidnap you from school today and who they think they spoke to last night was actually killed yesterday afternoon."

Molly's eyes went wide. "Yesterday… you mean that man in the street… you made the lamppost fall down?"

Sylar didn't answer, but he knew she was contemplating the fact that he had killed someone right in front of her. Again. But this time the victim had actually meant her harm. As he watched her digest this, he saw her eyes moving back to his---Mohinder's---shirt.

"I had an idea last night," she ventured nervously after a few minutes, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "What if Mohinder's, like, _in space?_"

Sylar rolled his eyes. "Don't be ridiculous," he said in exasperation, and got up from the table to do the dishes. "Mohinder was not abducted by aliens."

"Well, I don't know," she replied defensively. "I've been able to find people all around the world, so I think space is the only way he could be out of range but not dead. I can't think of any other explanation. I mean, no one just vanishes off the face of the earth." Molly looked hurt for having her theory so coldly dismissed, and also a little ashamed for having let down her guard enough to try to engage with the killer.

"Come on, let's go," Sylar ordered. "Pack a bag with stuff to keep you occupied and fed for the day."

Molly nodded and started putting snack in a lunchbox. Sylar noticed that she was packing it full of unhealthy things from strange hidden places in the kitchen that he had a feeling she wasn't supposed to know about or be able to reach. He figured they were the other guy's things. Sylar opened his mouth to deliver a cutting command, but then shut it again without saying anything. He certainly didn't give a shit what the kid ate.

*************************************

"I'm feeling fine today, really I am," Shanti's small voice asked.

"Yes, but you know perfectly well that tomorrow you might not," Chandra cooed lovingly. She shrugged and left her father's side to take Mohinder's hand with a confidence that belied her years.

She looked up at him with waiting eyes. "I guess you have to take blood, right?"  
Well, that had been the entire reason for his coming here. "Yes, if you don't mind," Mohinder replied tentatively. He was feeling even more unnerved than usual. This was the first time he'd really spoken to his sister.

"I'm used to it." She shrugged. She was so much like Molly, it was discomfiting.

"Shit, we should have thought of that. I didn't think of bringing a needle. And what are we going to put the blood in? I'm such an idiot." Victoria, Mohinder had already begun to notice, was very hard on herself. Although Adam had decided that Mohinder, with his genetic expertise, should be the lead on this project, he was also keen on Mohinder working with Victoria and teaching her as much as he could in the (undefined) time that they had. Adam had somehow procured lab equipment and set it up in the palatial suite he shared with Victoria. Mohinder couldn't quite understand why they were so sure of his---a stranger---scientific abilities, but he was flattered. And he chuckled to himself that even in this time period, he had found another "Bob" to pay for his research. In some ways, Mohinder led a charmed existence. It helped to balance out all the other preposterous psychodrama that surrounded him.

"I came prepared," Mohinder stated calmly. He pulled his click-shut metal box out of his bag and opened it to reveal a couple of needles and a tourniquet. He brandished the syringe and tested it like a pro, feeling in control for the first time in days. Here was something he could do, involving things he had brought with him from his own time. Worried, tense, and exhausted, he realized how ironic it was for him to finally feel at ease holding an instrument that he had for so long in New York tried to get people understand he was not trained to use.

As if reading his mind, Mohinder's mother smiled and remarked, "For a non-medical doctor, you certainly wield that like an expert."

Mohinder snapped out of his momentary reverie. "I have, actually. My… um, niece, was very sick and I needed to give her a lot of injections. It was good practice. So, hopefully this won't hurt too much."

"That also explains why you seem so good with little girls. So few men of your age are." Mohinder's mother beamed at him, and he beamed shyly back.

"What does she have?" Chandra asked, dissipating the friendly vibe between the two. The cold shoulder he had started giving Mohinder a couple of days ago on his first visit hadn't defrosted at all.

Mohinder threw out the first thing that came to mind. "Diabetes?"

"Which is also a genetic disorder," Adam observed. He'd been standing quietly in the corner, taking in the scene. Noticing the obvious tension between Chandra and Mohinder, he held out his hand to young father. "Come, Dr. Suresh. Let's leave the capable Mohinder to the women and go have a cigar or something. I have a feeling we're in the way."

Chandra shook his head. "I would rather---" But his wife interrupted him and shooed him with her arms.

"Go, Chandra, go! He's right. There are too many of us here anyway, watching a little blood get drawn. Go sit down and relax."

Chandra pulled a face, but went with Adam to another part of the house. As Adam had noted, Mohinder was left alone in a room of expectant women.

Mohinder picked Shanti up and deposited her on the kitchen counter. Shanti pushed up her shirtsleeve and quietly offered him her arm. He tied the tourniquet around her arm. Mohinder's mind ran to the last the last time he'd done this, six days ago or thirty years from now… Mohinder was still deciding how to think about things going forward.

"You really are good at this," Victoria observed. She was standing in a corner, watching in awe.

"I knew you would be," Mrs. Suresh gushed. "To be honest, the only reason Chandra agreed to this project is because Shanti was convinced after meeting you the other day that you could help her."

Mohinder shrugged off the compliments, but thought to himself that he could get used to being fawned over by a bunch of women. It made for a nice change from his previous life.

"Really? You think so?" he asked, as jokingly as he could. But in Shanti's gaze there was no teasing.

"Yes. And only you," was the serious reply. Mohinder shuddered.

"And whatever Shanti says, goes?" he couldn't help asking. It made sense that his parents had allowed his sister's presence to rule their home even after her death given that they had obviously allowed her to rule it so completely during her life.

"Shanti's instincts are never wrong. When she's feeling well, that is," their mother added.

Mohinder started at this, and looked even more closely at Shanti as the needle filled up. She gave him a tiny wink. "So, your utter brilliance goes in and out depending on how well you're feeling?" he asked carefully. He tried to make it sound like a jest, but inwardly he felt a chill as he realized for the first time what this truly might mean.

She wrinkled her nose. "Sort of. That's how I knew I was getting sick. I stopped knowing everything some days," she whispered.

"Interesting. So what Shanti has is linked to some sort of brain functionality?" Victoria queried, her gears almost visibly spinning as she tried to make sense of it all.

Anjali Suresh looked between Victoria and Mohinder with a little uncertainty, but then took a deep breath and began to speak. "Perhaps." Then she laughed. "Believe me, it was difficult explaining to the doctors that we thought something was wrong with her. That is, until she started developing more regular physical symptoms."

"I can imagine that. You two must come across as overachieving parents who worry that their child is anything less than precociously brilliant. Still, it's an interesting phenomenon."

They were finished a few minutes later. Victoria fetched Adam and Chandra while Mohinder tidied his equipment and packed up his research.

"That was fast. I hope you got everything you came for, Mohinder," Adam said lazily as he strolled back in and surveyed the scene, hands in his pockets. "Dr. Suresh and I were just having a lovely chat."

"What were you talking about?" Mrs. Suresh asked her husband darkly.

Before Chandra had a chance to speak, Adam replied, "You husband has been sharing some fascinating ideas with me."

"Chandra." If there had been an S in Chandra's name, Anjali would have hissed it.

"There's no reason for it to be a secret," he sheepishly replied. "Adam was very interested in my ideas."

"In fact, I think they make perfect sense. I've often wondered along the same lines myself, but haven't stopped to think about it as scientifically as Dr. Suresh here has begun to. Victoria, you know what I'm talking about. Our pet subject." As everyone else except Victoria looked on in confusion, Adam reached out to shake Chandra's hand. "I hope we can talk about this more another day."

Anjali clenched her fists but was silent. She proceeded to make forced efforts at polite conversation, but it was clear that she wanted to be alone with her husband.

"Well, I hope this will be of use," Mohinder said, somewhat automatically, as the three visitors moved to leave the bungalow awhile later. "I really want to help you feel better."

"Yes, but _will_ you?" Shanti asked under her breath so that only Mohinder could hear. It came out as an eerily knowing challenge.

*************************************

"Where are we going?" Molly asked as they exited the subway station at Lorimer Street. Once again, her small legs scrambled to keep up with the long strides of her captor. However, unlike the previous evening, she wasn't trying to yell.

Sylar didn't answer. It felt like a lifetime since he had last been in this neighborhood, and in many ways, it was. The early morning chill shrouded the first wave of commuters and the store-owners in a fog of breathy condensation. Sylar recognized some of them once they got to the main drag of Bedford Avenue: Mr. Pavelovich, from whom he had bought a half-pound of Colombian dark roast every Tuesday afternoon; Dr. Wensleydale, the ophthalmologist from whom he had bought his glasses every year for his whole life. He lowered his head and gripped Molly's shoulder with a nervous force that made her whimper.

They stopped before a storefront barricaded with metal pull-down shutters. Debris had gathered in front of it during months of neglect by its owner. Sylar waited until the block was devoid of pedestrians before entering the combination for the door section of the shutter.

"Come on. Quickly," he ordered, as he pushed it up just long enough to get Molly, the bags, and himself inside. Then he shut it quickly. Sylar ignited a bright light in his palm that he used to illuminate the tiny vestibule between the shutter and the front door. As Molly looked on in startled wonder at his ability, he opened the front door with the key he had retrieved a couple of days before from the safety deposit box that had long held his more practical documents and possessions.

Everything was exactly as he had left it that night he had fled with Brian Davis's corpse in the back of a rental car. Besides the large quantities of dust covering every surface and the dried blood that stained a large section of the wood flooring, one might have thought that Gabriel Gray was simply returning for business as usual after a vacation. Sylar's stomach did a flip at the realization and he forced himself to put the thought out of his head. As Molly stood still and wondering in the center of the room, Sylar efficiently ensured that anything she could use to escape or contact someone was rendered unusable. He irradiated the telephone wires, triple padlocked all the doors, and put all heavy implements high out of her reach. He tried to do so without looking at the reminders of his old life---tried not to make eye contact with inanimate objects, as it were. But it was impossible to truly block out where he was.

The old pieces and tools he had loved for so long, despite everything he had subsequently told himself, lay dust-free under the glass casings. The books he had collected smiled at him from behind the glass bookshelf doors. The irregular tick-tocks of ten different antique clocks he and his father had once picked out and arranged around the room drove him mad; it took all of Sylar's strength not to adjust and clean the abandoned pieces so that they would run in perfect sync once again.

He needed to get out of there before his self-possession crumbled.

"Okay," he addressed the girl somewhat awkwardly. "The bathroom's over there when you need it, and there are some kitchen utensils in this cabinet. Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone."

Molly's eyes opened wide as she realized what was happening. "You're leaving?" she squeaked. Then she asked a somewhat unexpected question. "When are you coming back?"

Sylar raised his eyebrows in surprise. "When I've finished what I have to do. What, did you think we were going to hang out?" he countered sarcastically.

"Obviously not. Ew." Molly made an effort to purse her lips in derision, but something stopped her. Sylar realized that there was a confused fear in her eyes that was different from the fear he inspired in her; his was something much more normal and childlike. "I just… I mean… I've never been left alone all day before."

He shrugged. "Welcome to life, kid." But seeing the shell-shocked expression remain pasted on her face, he added, "Play with a watch, or something." He felt a momentary panic as he realized what he was saying. "But don't break anything, or else I'll…"

Sylar caught himself caring when about something he didn't want to still care about, and stopped himself mid-sentence. He left, padlocking the shutter behind him and trapping her inside.

*************************************

Mohinder had taken to spending at least a few hours every day alone. On some days, it was in the morning and on others during the afternoon. There had been a few days when he had wandered off to eat dinner by himself, all for purpose of showing both his new friends and himself that he had some semblance of a life.

His visits to the market where he had lost Hiro had become more of a habit than a productive or hopeful check. He and his friend the cloth merchant never spoke; there was nothing to communicate except a head-shaken no on the other man's part. Mohinder wondered sometimes what the man must think of him. However, useless as the trips were, they had forced him into a kind of geographical pattern that informed his daily routine. His days now consisted of: breakfasting with his new friends; instructing Victoria in the principles of genetics as they might apply to diseases such as the one Shanti might have; and visiting the Sureshes to make notes, take blood, and just talk. And of course, these periods of alone time during which he walked through town nodding at tradesmen.

Mohinder had, without at all intending to, become part of a strange little clique of three with Adam and Victoria. They did everything together. In the back of his mind, Mohinder knew that under any other circumstance, he would have balked at this. At first he had justified the amount of time he spent with them as a means to an end. However, now that he had a multiple vials of Shanti's infected blood stored away in his syringe box (something that helped him continue believing that hope remained for him to return to his own time), he could no longer use his vitiated mission as a reason. Mohinder had to admit to himself that he spent time with them to preserve his sanity, and to relinquish himself to the human need for companionship. He hadn't opened up to or teamed up with anyone since meeting "Zane" so long ago… and look how that had ended up. After that fiasco, he had decided never to let down his guard like that again.

Something about Adam made that resolution impossible to keep. From the start, he had courted Mohinder's company, conversation, and confidence---and with a persistence that was almost imperceptible underneath the layers of intelligent and helpful charm he exuded. Mohinder didn't know why Adam did it, but he couldn't deny that he appreciated the attention. Without knowing much about him, Adam always seemed to know just the right things to say, and the right kinds of topics to bring up---never too personal, but always interesting food for thought. In this familiar land, rendered foreign by a strange time, it was comforting to have someone engage him so thoroughly. In their talks about philosophy, history, priorities and the world at large, Mohinder found someone who stimulated him enough to sometimes forget for a moment where and when he was. The unease Mohinder had felt on those first couple of days that Adam was somehow suspicious about the circumstances of Mohinder's arrival in Madras had dissipated. That was all replaced by an easy friendliness, but every so often, Mohinder felt Adam's eyes on him, thinking hard. Adam never asked Mohinder openly uncomfortable questions; he seemed more interested in finding out what made Mohinder tick than in his past, which was just fine with Mohinder. Of the man himself, Mohinder didn't know very much, but as someone who didn't want people prying into his business, he didn't think he had the right to pry into anyone else's.

Working with Victoria everyday had actually proven to be a joy. The woman, whose almost supernatural ability to understand situations had at first had set imaginary alarm bells ringing every time she opened her mouth, was slowly becoming something of a friend. She had an insatiable thirst for knowledge and a quick understanding that Mohinder hadn't encountered in anyone before or since Sylar himself. As a bonus, she was actually rather sweet, and Mohinder had a hard time imagining that she was hiding some secret crime. He noticed that he had a better time with her when they were alone, though. Something about Adam's presence filled her with a nervous awe and made her even more self-critical and eager to please. She kept talking about Adam's unique and wonderful ideals, but whenever Mohinder pressed her for more information, she cryptically assured him that Adam intended to tell Mohinder himself when the time was right.

It was clear that Adam and Victoria were more than just colleagues, since they were sharing a suite. However, Mohinder never quite felt that Adam was as romantically enamored of her as she was of him; he seemed infinitely more interested in her intelligence, which in some ways struck Mohinder as refreshing, but also depressing for someone as smitten as she was. If anything, Adam lavished Mohinder with a greater amount of attention. He forced himself to remember that this was 1977: a more swinging time when perhaps relationships really had been less serious than he was used to.

Things with his family were another matter. With Molly, Mohinder had never had the chance to discover exactly what the virus did to people; Thompson had been too intent on curing Molly as quickly as possible. This first instance of the illness held a macabre fascination for Mohinder. It came in fits and starts. Often, Shanti was quite chipper and able to hold court. On those days, Mohinder's visits consisted mostly of chatting with his family. He was getting used to this new rapport. He and his mother were striking up the kind of friendship he had never imagined they were capable of achieving, either because of his long absences from the country for schooling, or her shroud of secret sadness, or simply the invisible line of chumminess that mother-son relationships rarely crossed. She displayed a wit with him that he never knew she had.

Wonderful as the rapport between himself and his mother was here, nothing had really changed between Mohinder and his father. In some ways, it was a calming to realize that no matter what---even when freed from the trappings of their complicated father/son relationship---Mohinder would never be accepted by him. Chandra spent most of the threesome's visits fussing over Shanti, praising Victoria on how quickly she was picking up all the things Mohinder was teaching her, and discussing his nascent theories with Adam.

It was interesting to discover that it all stemmed from Shanti. Apparently her assertion one day that a man she had seen in a restaurant could fly and that she had seen someone turn invisible had sparked the idea of evolved humans in her father's brain and sent him on this doomed quest. With any other parents and any other child, this would all have been laughed off, but Chandra, in his belief that his child was always right, had taken it to heart. Mohinder eavesdropped sometimes as Chandra expounded to a quietly bemused Adam about the genetic possibilities of flight and spontaneous regeneration---the same rants that Mohinder had listened to his whole life. Mohinder comforted himself about his father's unknowingly characteristic behavior towards him by reminding himself that he knew more about these theories than anyone else in the room ever would. What was even more ironic was that Chandra seemed unaware, at least at this point, that his own child was one of his fabled evolved humans.

All those months with Molly had made Mohinder adept at talking to little girls of this age. Shanti adored him, but the way she looked at him made it clear that she somehow knew… something. What exactly, Mohinder couldn't be sure, and neither of them ever brought anything up. On the days when her illness debilitated her, her serious gaze twisted Mohinder's already uncomfortable conscience. The moral and paradoxical quandary was epic. It would be only the work of a moment to sneak in when the others weren't looking and give her an injection. But Hiro's warnings tormented him. If he did this, would he irreparably sever himself from his original world, the way Hiro had in the universe in which the two of them had met? But on the other hand, there was the danger that he was doomed anyway, and should therefore start moving on with his life; moving on involved doing the right thing to resolve problems he had the power to fix. Until he made this decision, Mohinder was at an impasse. He told himself every day that he had time; she was sick, but the virus was still in early stages.

That said, it was with a certain relief that Mohinder realized that for the first time in many months, there was only one super-powered person in his acquaintance---and even that one had her days of normalcy. Horrible a turn as his life had taken, in some ways things were relatively peaceful for the first time in a long time. There were no Company plots, no world-threatening unstable abilities to worry about, no partnerships gone horribly awry, no serial killers who kept seeking him out.

And so, as the days slipped by and became numerous enough to count in weeks, Mohinder's resilient nature began to kick in. He found himself able to sleep at nights in the cramped little hotel room he still occupied. He was even starting to get used to his new fake last name. Mohinder began thinking more and more about the "future." If this was truly to be his fate, the knowledge he alone possessed put him in a unique position. He could do anything, be anyone, change everything. The possibilities were endless.


	6. Chapter 6

"And what can I do for you today, sir?"

Mohinder took a deep breath and looked to make sure the bank manager's office door was shut. "I'd like to make a deposit."

"That can be easily arranged," the man began.

Mohinder shook his head. "I'm afraid my business will be rather more complicated than you're accustomed to." He opened the rucksack he had brought with him and began stacking wads of bills on the table. The bank manager's eyes opened wider as the pile increased. "As you can imagine," Mohinder continued calmly, "I don't think it particularly wise to have all this laying about."

The man's eyes were still transfixed by the huge amounts of cash. He didn't look up as he answered, "Of course, sir. We'll set up the account right now. It's a very simple process."

Mohinder shook his head. "There's more," he continued, and reached into his bag again to pull out a folder with meticulously typed and organized checklists.

"Yes?" the manager asked, realizing that he was in for even more than he had expected.

"This is a list of investments I'd like to make over the next few years."

"Years?"

Mohinder nodded. "I might not be able to be as actively involved in my account as I'd like to be. I'm, er… absent-minded. So I'd like to be able to know that on the dates provided, the following transactions will be processed."

"I think that we could manage that," the bank manager said. He looked over the list before wondering, "It's strange, though. I've never heard of many of these companies."

"You will. Just make sure this list gets saved and put into the database…"

"The what?"

Mohinder realized that he had gotten ahead of himself. "A… a system that I'm sure one day soon you'll convert to."

"I see, sir," the now thoroughly confused man said. "Here's the paperwork. And under what name are we making this account?"

This gave Mohinder pause. He hadn't quite thought this part through. "How about two thirds of it gets invested for me, Mohinder Renjen, and the last third gets put into an account with the same instructions for Mohinder Suresh."

"And who is Mr. Mohinder Suresh?"

"He hasn't been born yet."

"I see." The manager looked as though nothing could surprise him any further.

This wasn't going as easily as Mohinder had hoped. "He'll be the son of a friend of mine. I know they'll name him Mohinder, and I want to start a savings fund for him without telling his parents. They would be embarrassed." Mohinder allowed himself a sigh of relief when this seemed to pacify the banker.

"Oh, that makes sense. What a kind gesture on your part, sir. With such a friend, I can see why they will name the child after you," the banker assumed.

It hadn't occurred to him before, but now that it had been suggested, Mohinder shivered with the certain knowledge that that was what would happen. Why or how, he didn't know, but it had never been a family name, and his mother had always been rather vague about its origin. His father had never liked it. Everything clicked. He'd always been meant to come here, or rather, his coming here had influenced the life that he had known. He did have a purpose in this time, whether or not he knew what it was. Somehow, that thought made the feelings of resignation he'd started to have in the past week more hopeful.

"Sir? Is everything ok?" he heard the banker ask through the thick haze of his thoughts.

Mohinder now knew how to finish the transaction.

"I'm sorry, I was thinking of the last set of instructions I want to give you. Just in case anything happens to me… if I disappear for more than five years at any point, I'd like all of it to be transferred to Mohinder Suresh's account, but none of the money should be made available to him until after March 15, 2007. But I'm starting to doubt this will happen."

"You're a very forward-looking thinker, sir," complimented the banker as he made a note of this.

Mohinder simply smiled and finished filling out the paperwork. Everything he owned back in the future had been made out to Molly soon after she moved in. If he never made it back, at least she would be taken care of in this sense; Matt would see to it that she was taken care of otherwise. And his previous self wouldn't find out about the account and thus create a paradox.

A few minutes later, and feeling like a new man, he exited the bank and headed down the street towards the Sureshes, where he was to meet the others. He had just taken a huge step in establishing himself in his new life.

"Well, you look extraordinarily pleased with yourself," whispered a soothing voice suddenly at his ear. Mohinder jumped and spun around to find Adam walking, catlike, behind him.

"Adam Taylor! You can't do things like that!" Mohinder exclaimed, but was not upset. They walked in step. "Although, you're right. I am feeling pleased," Mohinder admitted.

"And coming out of the bank, I see," Adam observed. "Can it be that you, my dear Dr. Renjen, are more materialistic than I initially gave you credit for?"

Mohinder bristled at the accusation. "No, no, it's nothing like that. I'm just glad to have sorted something that was causing me some worry."

"Oh. What a disappointment."

"Why? What do you mean?"

"For days I've been constructing an attractive offer for you. If money was what you craved, I could quite easily offer that, but I've long felt that that isn't what inspires you. I want you to come work with me, Mohinder."

"How can I, if no one tells me what this mysterious endeavor is about?" Mohinder saw that the time Victoria had hinted to him would come had finally arrived.

"That's what I intend to do. We haven't known one another long, but it's been enough for me to know that you're a man of strong principles, one who wants to make a difference in the world, and you're searching for a way."

After the revelation in the bank, Adam's words couldn't have been better timed. "I suppose I am," Mohinder mused. However, he remembered his cover. "But, much as I have enjoyed the past couple of weeks, why do you think I need a job? I have my dissertation to write and---"

Adam looked at him so intensely that Mohinder feared he had read the truth right out of his brain. "No, you don't. You never mention the university unless pressed. It doesn't drive you. You aren't meant to be an academic, trapped in a classroom, teaching what's expected. You're looking for something you can do to help people. You're meant for a more active life. You're looking for a reason to escape the cage of academia, and the world of industry doesn't strike you. I understand, and I can offer you more."

For someone who couldn't possibly know, Adam was scarily on target. Mohinder thought back to his abruptly ended academic career. He had never fit into his PhD program; he was always on the outside pursuing wild tangents. He'd struggled with maintaining respectable status as a professor, and finally no longer able to stick to his assigned subjects, he had begun in his last days to teach the unaccepted theories he felt passionate about. Adam was a born leader, and one who made him feel like a partner, unlike everyone else he had ever worked with. He had a Pied Piper quality about him; although Mohinder felt the need to persist in feeling out what was going on first, he somehow knew he would accept.

"But you have to go back to America," Mohinder countered. "How can I possibly---"

"What are you going to use as an excuse? Your schooling? You don't need to be on campus to write your dissertation. Your family? You haven't mentioned them. You're alone in the world, aren't you?"

Mohinder thought back to his experience in the bank, where the only person he could leave something to was himself. He thought of his parents, who were at home just a little further down the road, but were somehow no longer actually his parents. He thought back to his life in New York, where the only calls he had received recently were from a little girl and a serial killer.

"I thought so," Adam said when Mohinder didn't respond. "So am I. So is Victoria. So are many of our other associates. I brought them together through our ideals, stronger than any family. Everyone needs a purpose. For too long, I, myself, wandered about without a path, trying different ideologies, trying to find one that gave me meaning, that gave me hope."

Despite Adam's serious tone, Mohinder laughed. "'For too long'? You're always saying these things… and yet you can't be more than my age, if that."

"It isn't the time that counts, Mohinder. It's what you do with it."

"And what do you propose that I do?"

Adam took Mohinder's hand. "Come back with us. Continue working on the virus, and anything else you feel like. For some time now, I've been feeling that even if we can't help Shanti, there could be other interesting applications for this work... but we can talk about that at another time. You'll be generously funded; any project you want to work on will be approved. You'll be part of a brotherhood. You can be at the forefront of a movement that will reshape the lives of everyone on this planet."

"This all sounds as idealistic as Suresh's theories," Mohinder said.

This remark caused Adam to lean even more closely into Mohinder. "Yes, Suresh's theories," he repeated carefully. "And what do you think of those?"

Mohinder paused. "He doesn't really discuss them much with me---only with you and Victoria---but from what I gather, I actually think he's on to something."

"I knew you would!" Adam exclaimed in incomprehensible triumph.

Mohinder continued, despite not quite understanding Adam's reaction. "Yes, but I'm probably the only scientist who'll ever admit it. If there are people out there with these abilities, they'd be too afraid to broadcast it. It's probably beyond today's scientific capabilities, but I believe one day research can prove him right."

This seemed to be the cue Adam had been waiting for. "Yes, it's probably beyond the science of today, but I don't think it's beyond you. The things you've taught Victoria… I know a bit about genetics myself---"

"You never told me tha---" Mohinder started, but was cut off by Adam's continued impassioned plea.

"---and you have an understanding far beyond that of any current scientist. Your modesty causes you to downplay it, but I know it's there. Your research on Shanti Suresh has given me certain ideas that I would love to see you continue to carry out---related to both her illness, and these theories---and which I think you may be the only one capable of doing. You have… let's say that Suresh isn't the only one with theories. I think you and Victoria may be two peas in a pod."

Mohinder beamed. Like Victoria, he had slowly been falling under Adam's spell in recent weeks, and Adam had a way of bestowing compliments that made one feel like a king. "That's very kind of you to say. She's one of the brightest people I've ever met."

Adam shook his head. "It isn't bright… Anyway, I think I've said all I should for right now. What do you think? Would you like to join a group that can change the world?"

It was a lot, and yet also too little, to digest. Mohinder had only too recently come to grips with his situation, and, attractive as this offered path sounded, he had a nagging feeling of concern.

Adam seemed to understand his mental processes. "Just think about it. There's plenty of time. Come, Victoria's probably waiting for us. I look forward to continuing this conversation very soon."

*************************************

Sylar walked along Reade Street and slipped inside the building Mohinder had led him to a few days before. In the past couple of days, while ruminating on that morning's occurrences, Sylar had remembered the blinking red light on the keypad. He decided that Mohinder must have tipped Little Miss Spark Plug---Elle, he assumed---off by entering a specific security-activation code, which suggested that otherwise, the cameras were in the off position.

Sylar decided to try opening the door legitimately. If that didn't work, he'd simply melt the locks, confident that he could handle whatever security measures came his way. Although it seemed too long for a door, Sylar typed in the computer network password Molly had given him. The door clicked open, without any blinking red lights. Sylar descended the steps to the main floor area, unsure of what he was looking for. He tried to banish from his mind this whole issue with Mohinder and concentrate on the mission he had committed to days before: namely, to get information about the Company and find a way to get his revenge.

Sylar went straight for the locked office that the other day had seemed off-limits to Mohinder. He slowly turned the knob on the lock to find out which numbers almost inaudibly clicked, and then opened it using the combination. With luck, he found what he was looking for almost immediately. In a drawer in the desk was a DHL envelope sent from Mexico with Sylar's entire history: his first capture, his rescue from Kirby Plaza, and the decision to inject him with one of the experimental virus strains. Most interesting was the note appended to the last page, signed by Bob just a couple of weeks before, and specifying that no one dealing with Sylar's case was to breathe a word of it to the potential new employee, Mohinder Suresh.

This confirmed Sylar's feeling that Mohinder really had been horrified by the diagnosis the other day. Now, even other people were corroborating the fact that Mohinder wouldn't stand to see Sylar used as a lab rat. For whatever reason, Sylar found this immensely gratifying, not that it mattered much, what with the current disappearing act that he was trying not to think or worry about. He decided to investigate further into the company's research. When Sylar opened a of locked file cabinet, dust flew out from atop yellowing papers, indicating that Sylar had found a treasure trove that hadn't been looked at in years. He sat down cross-legged on the floor to go through its contents.

There was a folder with notes about the virus. First was a note about a "subject" from someone named Adam. There were some research logs signed off by Mohinder and someone named Victoria. Despite the old paper and piles of dust that suggested otherwise, Sylar figured that he had found part of Mohinder's work, after all. This was strange, though, as Sylar's computer research the previous night hadn't said anything about Mohinder having a partner. Even stranger was the increasingly clear sense Sylar got that Mohinder and this Victoria person were doing much more basic-sounding research than what he had imagined. Mohinder and Victoria were brainstorming a possible cure for "the subject" they were observing, who was obviously a little girl. But Sylar knew Mohinder had found a cure for Molly back in November, and yet these pages signed by Mohinder and Victoria were dated in late February, only last month.

He flipped to the last page where he found a much more official-looking piece of paper. This one---an agreement to continue the research in Hartsdale---was properly dated. Now that he read even more closely, it appeared that they were all in India. It was still February, but now the whole date was printed. February 20, 1977. And this time the name of the subject was written: Shanti Suresh.

The page had the same dry, yellowed quality of the other sheets, but just like the others, it was signed in exactly the way Mohinder always signed his name. Sylar noticed a shaky R at the start of the clumsily scrawled last name, but the "Mohinder" was unmistakable.

How many geneticists named Mohinder possessing that handwriting could have studied Shanti's obscure virus? There were coincidences, and then there was this.

Between Mohinder's disappearance, the strange result given by Molly's ability, the wine password, and now these files, something clicked. No, it was impossible, Sylar told himself. However, he remembered Molly's words that morning. She was right; they had run out of logical explanations. It was this, or aliens. For some reason, his gut told him that he had found the answer.

However, if he was right, if Mohinder was somehow traveling through time, how was he doing so? Sylar had come to acknowledge that Mohinder was much wilier than either he or Chandra had originally given him credit for, but could he really be hiding something as huge as this? How could his name never have been on his father's list? Had Chandra never bothered to test his son, out of disappointment in Mohinder's failure to save Shanti? It seemed so obvious now that Sylar was thinking about it; if Shanti had been special, there was a decent chance Mohinder was, as well. Perhaps he had manifested an ability during the past four months. But then again, if he had, he would have used it the other day, right?

As Sylar left the lab, his mind spun with questions and possibilities; all efforts to repress thoughts about Mohinder had utterly failed. Sylar was at cross-purposes; key to the dynamic between himself and Mohinder had been the fact that Mohinder lacked an ability. What would such a potential development mean?

No. In the end, Sylar decided it was impossible. Mohinder would never have called in for backup, putting Elle at risk, if he could have done something himself, especially something as useful as time travel. Therefore, something else was at work. As he roamed the city, surrounded yet alone, Sylar thought yet again of Molly's words. How could someone vanish off the face of the earth? And not, it seemed, not just off the earth, but out of time?

Then he paused with a realization. There was a man who could vanish. And he could also take people with him. Sylar's intuitive aptitude told him that the potential for space and time to be related was significant. If someone could do one, then why not the other? Perhaps… It was a stretch, but it could work.

*************************************

"A pleasure, as always," Adam said warmly to Mrs. Suresh later that evening as she escorted the threesome out of the house.

Mohinder's mother reached gently for his arm. "One moment, Mohinder," she whispered.

In being pulled back, Mohinder accidentally bumped into a man in the road. But the response to his apology was, "That's impossible," as the man looked beyond Mohinder.

"I was wondering if I could come see you soon," his mother said softly.

"Sure, anytime. Just let me know," he replied.

"Unfortunately, I can't. I can only come when I can get away. I'd like it if no one knew." She looked in the direction of Adam and Victoria.

This was a mystery, but Mohinder went with it. "My room is 243 in the old wing. Just stop by and hopefully I'll be there."

"Thank you," she said, and Mohinder turned to catch up with his friends. They hadn't yet realized that he wasn't with them. The middle-aged man Mohinder had bumped into was still staring in a trance---at Adam.

"Alistair Delaney?" he yelled. Adam (and a couple of other people) turned around. Then he shook his head and faced forward again with a confused frown.

But that was enough to send the man sprinting. "It is you!" he cried, as he caught up with Adam, knocked him off balance, and started pulling him down a dark alley.

"What are you doing?" Victoria cried, and chased them. Mohinder broke into a run.

"Who are you? What is your problem?" Adam yelled as the man pummeled him to the ground behind a trash heap in the narrow space.

"I don't know how your face hasn't changed, but maybe it's God's way of letting me get my revenge, you two-faced Nazi spy."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Adam protested calmly, despite the struggle.

"Like hell you don't. I'm James Sullivan. Potsdam, 1944. Don't pretend not to remember! Die, and be damned!" The man pulled out a knife and started stabbing Adam repeatedly in the chest.

Victoria shrieked and pushed past Mohinder who had arrived and was trying to hold her back so he could assist Adam. She threw herself on the man and received a deep slash through the jugular for her efforts. She fell like a dead weight.

"Victoria!" Mohinder was paralyzed for a moment. There was nothing he could do; with an injury like that, she would be dead in minutes, if not already. He was amazed to see Adam retain some fight in him despite the wounds he was receiving, but Sullivan was still stronger. It took all of Mohinder's strength to finally pull him off of Adam and wrench the knife from his hand.

"Move!" Adam bellowed, and Mohinder felt Adam's somehow still steely grip yank him away from the attacker. Adam reached into his pocket. A shot rang out. The man dropped immediately, a bullet between his eyes.

While Mohinder was still reacting to this turn of events, Adam staggered to Victoria, who was gurgling her dying breaths. Adam produced a small knife from the same pocket as the gun and threw himself on top of her. Before Mohinder could stop him, Adam lined his forearm up with Victoria's, passed the knife swiftly and deeply between their arms, and was now pressing their open wounds together.

"What are you doing?!" Mohinder gasped. Why was Adam hurting her further? It was as if the whole world had gone crazy.

But then he noticed that despite having received at least fifteen stabs full to the chest, Adam was breathing normally. And then even more outrageously, the gash in her neck began to miraculously heal itself.

Mohinder's recently constructed and fragile existence was falling apart before his eyes. If he hadn't believed in destiny before, he was starting to now. He would never, and could never escape this life, no matter what he did.

Victoria awoke with a cough and a sputter. "Adam," she breathed reverently, and held onto her rescuer's arm as she tried to sit up.

"You shouldn't have gotten in the way," Adam cooed into her hair, while still retaining eye contact with the speechlessly standing Mohinder. "You knew I would be fine."

"I know, but that madman was going for your head. And… I have this idea…" Victoria was still too out of it to continue, so she just hugged Adam even more tightly. His wounds had healed completely.

"Don't worry, my pet," he whispered, and planted proprietary kisses on her blood-spattered forehead.

With his arms wrapped around the still-recovering Victoria, Adam turned his full attention to Mohinder. "I had hoped to introduce this particular conversation under less, shall we say, duress… but such is life. I suppose it's safe to assume we have much to discuss this evening?"

Mohinder nodded.

*************************************

Sylar finally returned to the locked storefront in Williamsburg in the early evening. He was so focused on listening to what Molly might be doing inside as he began to pull up the shutter that he didn't notice someone coming up to him until there was already a hand on his arm. Sylar shoved the person off him and spun around, ready to kill.

The man stumbled, but quickly regained his balance and peered at Sylar inquisitively. "Gabriel Gray, it is you!" he exclaimed, too overjoyed to be put out by the greeting he had received.

"Dr. Wensleydale, I'm so sorry." The automatic politeness of a previous time returned to him with a terrifying and unbidden ease. He flinched inside at the other man's kind smile.

"It's been a long time. Everyone wondered what had happened to you. We were worried. Especially after what happened to your mother. My condolences."

"I took a trip," was Sylar's short and awkward reply. He got a sympathetic pat on the arm.

"Of course, of course, we all assumed something like that, poor boy. It must have been hard for you." His old ophthalmologist was still studying him with friendly affection. "You look so different, Gabriel. Your clothes… and your hair. You got contacts!" he finished chidingly.

"Yeah. I would have come to you for them, but I was out of town…" Sylar mumbled apologetically. He didn't even know what he was saying, so desperate was he to get out of this awkward situation without a scene and without further disturbing his already ruined equilibrium.

"And now you're back?" Before waiting for a response, Dr. Wensleydale continued chatting happily. "My wife's watch broke a couple of months ago, but I wouldn't let her take it to anyone else because I said to her, 'Gabriel---"

Sylar panicked as he felt imaginary ropes trying to reel him back to his old life. "No, I'm not back. I can't do it."

The doctor brushed Sylar's diffidence aside. "Tut tut. It'll only take five minutes. You always worked so fast. I'm sure you---"

"I'm sorry, I can't." Sylar quickly ducked under the partially opened shutter and closed it behind him, leaving his old neighbor standing there stunned.

Sylar hoped Dr. Wensleydale hadn't spotted Molly standing by the locked inner door. It didn't seem that he had. However, by the way she was looking up at Sylar through the double-paned glass, he knew that she had heard every word of their conversation. His stomach churned in embarrassment, and he compensated by resuming his usual threatening glare as he unlocked the door and let himself in. His old glasses and headgear sat gingerly on her too-small head, and a bunch of old gears were splayed on the worktable.

Neither wanted to accord the other the niceties of a greeting, so they simply stared one another down for a moment. In a way, this was what Sylar needed to regain control and composure. Being the one with a question to ask, Sylar was forced to break first. He got straight to the point.

"You were there that night in Kirby Plaza. Do you remember the man who…" Sylar was averse to speaking directly about his moment of weakness in front of the child, so finished with, "that man with the sword?"

"You mean the guy who killed you?" she taunted. Sylar let the dig pass in favor of staying on topic.

"Where is he?"

"No," she stated defiantly, jutting her chin out.

Sylar wished she would stop. He had long tired of her backtalk. "You're hardly in a position to say no. I may not be intending to kill you, but that doesn't mean I won't make things uncomfortable for you. Also," he added, "if Mohinder really is gone for good, that lessens any reason…"

Shuddering, Molly bravely cut him off. "I saw him appear and disappear. That means he's special. I'm not telling you where special people are so you can go kill them. I'm not going to let you use me for that. No."

Sylar couldn't help but chuckle at this. "Are you sure Mohinder only took you in four months ago?" he asked.

"Huh?" she asked, not understanding the reference.

"Nothing." Sylar crossed his arms in front of him and stared her down. "Just do it. Now."

Molly cowered. "I could lie," she said, almost as a question to herself.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Sylar snarled. He actually didn't have any way of knowing if she was telling the truth or not, but it didn't matter. Whether or not she gave him a correct location was irrelevant. He had a feeling he'd be able to get the answer he wanted simply by reading her expression.

Molly became lost in thought, trying to remember a man she had only seen in the dark for a couple of minutes. Time passed and she registered more and more shock. Sylar saw that he was right. When she finally opened her eyes, it was in unfeigned surprise and confusion.

"It's like Mohinder! He's not dead, but he's not anywhere. I don't get it. Is my ability broken again?"

"No, it's working fine," Sylar replied with smug satisfaction.

*************************************

"Uh oh."

Hiro was prone to talking to himself.

That had been one of his most frantic time jumps yet, second only to the one that had landed him in 17th-century Japan. Looking around, he realized with horror that he was in the cemetery in Tokyo, standing beside the plot he had buried Adam in. Haunted both his actions of a few days before and by the face he had seen only moments ago, Hiro irrationally imagined he could hear muffled screams coming from the ground. He tried to run away from the grave, but he tripped backwards and landed on the ground with a thud.

"I must get back. I must get Dr. Suresh," he said while staring aghast at the plot.

He concentrated. Nothing happened. Like the time he had tried to get back to Charlie, he knew where and when he wanted to go, but either his overwrought emotions or some larger impediment prevented him from going---he had never figured out which it was. Hoping it would help him recover his bearings and be able to start over again after that terrible shock to his nerves, Hiro took a deep breath and tried something easier. He teleported himself to the hallway in the New York Public Library, right back to the spot where he and Mohinder had jumped into the past. A dazed-looking scholar passing by jumped and let out a squawk upon seeing Hiro's seated and bellbottomed figure appear out of nowhere.

Hiro pushed his glasses up his nose and smiled weakly. "Hi," he said, and waved as if nothing was amiss. The scholar gulped and ran into the bathroom, most likely to have a nervous breakdown. Hiro stood up and was about to try time-traveling again, but he froze when he noticed a board with the day's listing of special events at the library. The heading read "July 14, 2009."

 

_...Sorry.. this ended up being unfinished!_


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here are the last four chapters. Believe it or not, I wrote these later chapters before I even wrote chapter 2, but I got stuck in chapters 7 and 8, and never got to post them. There was one line of dialogue that the whole thing hinged on, and I could never think of it. I clearly never will. So, in case anyone stumbles across this story and wants to know how it ends, here are the drafts (with stream of consciousness notes in bold to explain the holes). It's pretty complete and should give closure.

**CHAPTER 7  
**  
“People from the company were probably at the apartment this morning, so we’re going to have to move around the mess,” Sylar warned while they were still climbing the stairs.

“Yeah, I know. Elle was there. I was watching. In my head,” Molly replied.

“Where is she now?” Sylar asked, interested, and feeling desirous of her power again. He made himself calm down, though.

Molly gave him a suspicious look. “Out of town.”

Sylar forced the already broken lock and let them inside. Molly silently understood to stay still and quiet until he gave her the okay sign. Almost everything in the apartment had been overturned, but not much was broken. Sylar pulled out some newly installed wiretapping and made sure the rest of the place was clean before using telekinesis to right as much of the furniture as he could.

“If you weren’t so awful, you’d be like Mary Poppins,” Molly remarked, her eyes round in wonder.

Sylar nodded and hoped the kid would go about her business quietly as she had the previous evening. As he went into the kitchen, he realized that hadn’t done the same thing in the same place with the same person two days in a row for longer than he could remember. A man of a naturally methodical nature, he found himself in a quandary; he found himself enjoying the concept of a return to routine, but he couldn’t have been less enthused about the specific circumstances.

However, Molly wasn’t going to let him off that easily. “So? What’s going on? What’s the deal with that guy? Did you figure out where Mohinder is?” Molly finally erupted.

Sylar had avoided all questions on the way home, too focused on keeping her quiet in the subway and staying under the radar. It was also a chance for him to process this mind-boggling information.

“I think Mohinder is in the past,” he replied.

“What, like time travel?” Molly was incredulous.

“Yes, exactly like time travel.”

As she thought about the concept, comprehension dawned on her small features. “Ohhhh, that makes sense. He was wearing these weird clothes and acting funny yesterday morning. Weird clothes like out of an old movie.”

This confirmed things even more. “I see. Did he say anything?”

“No. He was just saying how excited he was about something, that he thought it would be a good day.”

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this yesterday?” Sylar inquired, not that it would have helped him figure it out sooner.

“We weren’t really speaking yesterday,” she replied, simply. It was a fair point, and gave him pause.

“And today we are. What’s changed?”

She shrugged. “You’re not that scary. You’re just a guy who fi---”

The glare he leveled at her told her not to go there, and she choked down the words she had been about to utter.

“How do we get him back?” was her nervous replacement inquiry.

This, of course, was the million dollar question. All Sylar knew were a set of dates when Mohinder had been in India for certain. Molly’s tale of the day before showed that Mohinder’s trip with the crazy sword-wielder had been premeditated. However, the fact that he had not returned meant that something had gone awry; Mohinder would never have left Molly unprotected on purpose. Her ability to still see him gave Sylar hope that Mohinder, in whatever mysterious way, was still alive. That was something, but far from enough.

Molly read Sylar’s lack of ideas on his face and in his lack of response. Her face fell and she began to brood. “What happens if he doesn’t come back?”

“What’s-his-name. Matt. He should be back to take care of you soon,” Sylar growled, but that didn’t seem to pacify her. In fact, it only sent her bursting into tears.

**Blah blah blah. Some more vaguely tense conversation. Also, while picking through the mess, Molly comes across one of the pictures from the roadtrip that Sylar was thinking about in chapter 5 (those pictures of Zach and Sendhil in their roadtrip costumes, but hugging and smiling at the camera). She doesn’t really say much about it, but it’s clear that she’s intrigued, is realizing there’s more to Sylar and Mohinder’s relationship than she realized, and that maybe there are deeper motivations for Sylar being here. Sylar is pissy (yet intrigued that Mohinder DID keep those pics) and doesn’t divulge any information. They basically don’t talk about it, but are both thinking about it and know the other is thinking about it.**

Need to also insert some exposition, either in this Sylar section or the next, that Molly had been mind-looking for Matt all day. She realized that he hadn’t moved an inch, and was in a room next-door to Nathan. So, clearly, Matt’s been shot and won’t be calling (exposited in chapter 3 that someone was still after Nathan and Matt), so now she has no one to look after her. Tragedy. Sylar wonders what he’s going to do about her if Mohinder can’t come back. He certainly doesn’t want her.

*************************************** 

** Mohinder/Adam/Victoria section here. They’re back in the hotel lobby drinking Mohinder’s favorite wine (the wine from chapter 3 with Sylar) and Adam’s in love with it. You’re supposed to gather that this is the genesis for the wine name being the password. Adam explains to Mohinder about the abilities he and Victoria have (regeneration and intuitive aptitude). Mohinder silently freaks out about Victoria having the same ability as Sylar, but notes that she’s lovely instead of psycho, so there’s got to be some push that made Gabriel Gray into Sylar). Adam wants Mohinder to come back to New York with them. Mohinder says he’ll think about it. But honestly, he’s stuck in the past; it’s not like he has anything better to do, so deep down, both he and Adam know he’ll come.**

*************************************** 

Sylar was distracted by the sound of one of the neighbors leaving their apartment. Footsteps came down the hallway, and stopped in front of the front door. Before Molly could have any idea that someone was outside, Sylar was on her, muffling any attempt she might make to call for help, not that after the previous conversation he actually thought that she would. That concept was more frightening than his previous worries that she would do something to get herself rescued.

“Dr. Suresh? Officer Parkman?” an old woman’s voice called. There were some knocks on the door, but when no one answered, she stopped, paused, and then slid something under the door before walking away. Sylar held both Molly’s and his own breath until he heard the woman reenter her apartment.

If the neighbor had been a company agent, she would have come bursting in. The packet seemed safe. Sylar moved to the door and picked up the envelope. Stuck to the outside was a post-it note written in a veined scrawl, presumably belonging to the neighbor.

_Dr. Suresh, _

The person who delivered this said to drop it off with you at 8 o’clock, but that you probably wouldn’t be there. Here it is.

Lucrezia Motta, Apt. 610

Sylar ripped the envelope open. Inside was a large batch of keys and a letter. Although the outer, official envelope had been addressed to Mohinder, the expensive stationary inside was addressed to Gabriel Gray.

“What is it?” asked a small voice suddenly by his leg.

“Nothing,” he snapped, wanting to concentrate. Molly clicked her teeth in frustration and went back to whatever she’d been doing. Sylar opened the envelope addressed to him.

_Gabriel,_

The Company believes that Dr. Suresh and Molly Walker have escaped to a location unknown. They are ignorant that you and Molly are staying here. I, however, am not. I know where you are and I know when he is.

Tomorrow, when you go to Hartsdale, you will encounter Bob Bishop. His ability is transmutation of metals. After you see him, you will need these keys to access the lower levels of the building. However, before you go downstairs, open the safe in Bob’s office. Do not open the envelope inside the safe until after you have left the building.

If you follow these instructions to the letter, you will obtain that which you want the most.

Angela Petrelli

Sylar stifled a laugh. Someone was offering him his heart’s desire? It was preposterous. And yet…

**At any rate, he decides to try it (he assumes she’s talking about powers being what he wants), but to test what the hell is going on first. By the end of this chapter, we reach a point where Molly is not technically “okay” with Sylar, but they’ve definitely reached a kind of truce, and she’s aware that despite everything he’s done in the past, he _has_ been keeping her safe for the past couple of days. This is the last Sylar+Molly section of the story, so it’s the last chance to establish this so that stuff in chapter 10 will make sense.**

*************************************** 

** Mohinder’s at his parents’ house for the last time. Thoughts about going to NY and what his life will be like now in the 70s, working for Adam. Last words to Shanti. One last chance to talk to his father and maybe change the future… especially in light of his thoughts he was having re: intuitive aptitude/Victoria/Gabriel in the last section.**

“I’ve noticed that when talking about your theory, you mention the more obviously physical possibilities, like cellular regeneration and flight and telekinesis. What about other ones, that are perhaps less… fantastical? Abilities that are a little more subtle?”

“What do you mean?” Chandra asked.

“Well, take this for example. How do you feel about the possibility of someone who has the ability to persuade people to do whatever you say?”

“You mean a very persuasive person?” Mohinder could hear the derision in Chandra’s voice.

“No, not exactly,” he explained patiently. “I mean someone whose genetic mutation manifests as an almost hypnotic effect.”

“That’s called charisma, Mohinder. You don’t need a genetic mutation for that.”

Mohinder sighed. “Or, how about this one? Someone who can intuitively see how things work. No matter the subject.”

“It sounds like you’re simply talking about an intelligent person.” Chandra furrowed his brow in disapproval. “I don’t think you quite understand what I’ve been getting at with this theory.”

Mohinder wanted to beat his father over the head with a stick. How much more obvious could he be without spelling it all out for him? “No, not simply an intelligent person. I mean, take Victoria, for example…”

“An extremely bright young woman…”

“Yes, but what if it was more than that? What if she had the genetic mark and that was how it manifested? I’m talking about more than intelligence… like an intuitive aptitude.”

“That’s so… ordinary. I think someone like Victoria simply has grasps new concepts faster than most people. That isn’t at all what we’re talking about. I’m talking about people who are more evolved, not people who simply function on a higher level than others.”

Mohinder gave up. He wasn’t sure why he had tried anyway. Hiro had warned him against trying to avert deaths. All this experience had done was show him how inevitable it all was. Of _course_ Chandra would overlook Gabriel Gray’s fantastic ability---in Mohinder’s mind, the most exciting of all abilities. Having had this conversation, Mohinder no longer needed to wonder what had happened between his father and Sylar. The story was all too tragically clear.

“Is something wrong?” Chandra asked when Mohinder failed to speak for a few minutes.

“No, nothing,” Mohinder snapped.

**This will end with Mohinder giving up, going to the hotel, having a few drinks at the bar by himself, and then coming back to his room kind of drunk only to find that his mother has snuck in and is sitting on the bed waiting for him. Yikes.**

*************************************** 

**The chapter wraps up with a really quick Hiro section in which one of the librarians sees him wandering around like a lost puppy and asks if he’s lost and/or a tourist. He says yes, so she sits him down at one of the terminals in the periodicals room and shows him how to look up where he might want to go. Not sure what to do, and still experiencing all sorts of guilt and panic about Mohinder, he does a search for him (kind of out of curiosity of what happens when someone gets stuck in the past). He expects to find lots of newspaper reports about a missing person, but instead sees an address. Dun dun DUNNNN! Hiro writes down the address, sneaks into a bathroom stall, and teleports out of the library. End of chapter 7.**

 

** CHAPTER 8 : everyone wants Mohinder **

** Mohinder and his mom chatting in his hotel room just in a friendly way (not in a Back to the Future kind of way). There’s a knock on the door. They freak out because she isn’t supposed to be there (married lady in hot single guy’s hotel room and all that). Mohinder hides her in the closet. Opens the door to Adam, who is plastered. Adam comes in and makes all sorts of weird drunk remarks. He’s a sharp guy and lord knows he’s hidden his fair share of people in closets, so he figures out what’s going on pretty quickly and calls Mohinder out on it. They let her out and Adam promises not to tell anyone. She says goodbye to Mohinder. After she leaves, Adam teases Mohinder about her. Mohinder assures him that it isn’t like that. Adam says he knows that it isn’t. Gets up way too close in his personal space. Mohinder’s also kind of drunk and has been kind of fascinated by him anyway (insert weird parallels with how/why he’s attracted that are very similar to how/why he was attracted to Zane/Sylar). Adam makes a move. Mohinder at first goes along with it, but then realizes that something is terribly wrong, like a feeling in his gut. He sort of resists. Adam isn’t used to people not wanting him, but Mohinder manages to get Adam to stop being grope-y. Adam drunkenly lets on that his last name is Monroe, not the fake name he’s been using. Mohinder questions him on this, and Adam gives some sort of lame response and tries groping him again. Mohinder finally puts two and two together to realize that this is Adam Monroe, the evil company person Bob had told him about in season 2. **

The following are bits and pieces of the scene I just described.

There was a knock on the door. Mohinder quickly put his things away before opening to the surprising sight of Adam leaning seductively in his doorway.

 

“What are you doing, Adam?”

Adam pushed the door open and sauntered elegantly inside Mohinder’s tiny room.

“Is this where you’ve been staying? It’s so… dreary. Why don’t you upgrade?” he asked, as he flopped on the bed with his bottle of wine.

“Because this is what I can afford,” Mohinder said. He was still unnerved from having been almost caught, and was feeling irritated.

“You should have asked. I would have paid for your room.”

“I’m not going to take your money. We only just met. Even if we hadn’t only just met.”

“I don’t care. I have limitless funds.”

“You’re drunk,” Mohinder said.

“Yes, and it’s bloody fantastic. Come Mohinder,” he said, reaching out elegantly. “Sit with me.”

Mohinder sputtered, but there was nowhere else to sit in the room.

“You’re special,” Adam breathed into his ear. “I know you are. You’re like me.”

“I’m really not, I assure you.”

“You are. There’s something about you. I noticed it the first time I laid eyes on you. I have a knack of spotting special people. People’s abilities manifest at different times. Maybe yours just hasn’t kicked in yet. It runs in your veins, I know it does. And if I’m not right about this, my name isn’t Adam Monroe.”

Mohinder did a double take. “I thought your name was Adam Taylor.”

“Eh?” Adam asked. He leaned against a wall for balance and thought for a moment. “Did I say Monroe? Yes, I suppose I did say Monroe. Well, you know, I had some issues with a visa, so I had to give a false name at customs. Have been trying to maintain it ever since. No matter though, right?”

“N—no. None at all,” Mohinder stammered.

Adam Monroe.

All at once, a million puzzle pieces clicked together in Mohinder’s mind.

The way Hiro had looked just before he disappeared in a panic. The fact that Adam had approached him just seconds later. The unnatural interest Adam had shown in Hiro on that first day. Hiro’s tale of how Adam Monroe had killed his father. Adam Monroe, who Matt had said had tried to release the virus. The virus they had just taken from Mohinder’s sister. Adam Monroe who was 400 years old. Of course. Hiro was a time-traveler. They had met before, god knows when.

Mohinder hung his head in shame reeling from the realization. He’d done it again. When would he ever learn? What was it about him that attracted magnetic super-powered psychos like flies? And why did he always fall into their traps?

“Mohinder? Is everything alright?”

“Yes, of course. Sorry, just a dizzy spell. I’m fine again.”

*************************************** 

**And now… slash happens. It’s the only way to logically have everything Sylar’s gone through happen, because there needed to be time when Mohinder was away and a reason for why Hiro didn’t immediately come back to get him that first day in the market. Even though I wrote this long before I started watching Lost, it is like season 4 of that show, where you’re supposed to be confused as to what has happened/will happen to make this scene possible. It gets explained in later chapters.**

We pick up with Hiro, who was last seen teleporting out of the library. He teleports right into Mohinder’s bedroom, right in the crevice of the door so he can look through the door hinge into the living room/kitchen area. He’s in for a shock! First that Mohinder is sitting there at the table---regular young Mohinder, not some 60-year-old Mohinder. Second shock is that Sylar is sitting there with him, and the whole thing is mysteriously low on tension, given that Sylar’s a serial killer/sworn enemy and all. Hiro is confused. This section is told through Hiro’s POV as he eavesdrops on the conversation already in progress between Sylar and Mohinder.

“It’s funny that you still live here,” Sylar mused.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Mohinder queried.

“Well, it’s a pretty shitty apartment. Always has been.”

“Thanks,” Mohinder replied. “You can leave now if it bothers you.”

Sylar sighed contentedly and interlaced his fingers behind his head as he stretched out even more spaciously. “No, I like it like this. I just mean that you didn’t _have_ to stay here. You could have moved anywhere. I would even have---”

“Never,” Mohinder said, stiffening. He shook his head and suddenly laughed. “What is it about me that makes people want to get me nicer places to live?”

“What? Who else?” was the lightning fast reply. Hiro could have sworn that Sylar’s voice hardened in… jealousy? No, that was impossible.

“No one,” Mohinder said evasively. “If I wanted to get a better place, I’d be perfectly capable of---” but then Mohinder stopped himself abruptly. Sylar raised an eyebrow and Mohinder started again. “Maybe I just haven’t yet figured out where I actually want to be.”

“Meaning you’re afraid to move on. You’re stuck.”

Mohinder became defensive. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“I would. You’re stuck in the past.”

Mohinder shot him a confused look. “Actually, I think I’m one of few people who can proudly say that they’re _no longer_ stuck in the past.”

“Physically yes, but…” Sylar gathered himself. “You’re back, and you’ve rationally dealt with the way things are now, and yet you’re still blind to things that…” He trailed off when he met Mohinder’s disquieted gaze.

There was a palpably awkward silence. Mohinder ruffled through some papers while Sylar watched him.

“Given that we stopped talking about business some time ago, I’d like to call this meeting adjourned, unless there are any other issues on the table.” Mohinder got up to fill up the kettle.

“Well, there is one more.” Although he stayed in his seat, Sylar’s head bobbed up to better watch Mohinder.

Mohinder turned around and cocked an amused eyebrow at him. “Are you going to turn taskmaster now, after all this time?”

“No. I don’t need to. You work yourself hard enough without anyone browbeating you, Mohinder.”

“What else did you want to discuss?”

Sylar leaned forward, keeping his eyes intent on Mohinder’s moving form. “Isn’t it your birthday today?” he asked. “What?” he continued in surprise when Mohinder started laughing.

“Nothing. I just didn’t expect that. But yes, it is. How did you know? I’ve never told you.”

“I’ve read your file, remember?”

“You didn’t say anything last year,” Mohinder chided as he slid back into his seat across from Sylar at the small table.

“I was out of town,” Sylar replied. “Don’t tell me I’m the only one who remembered?” he asked.

“No, you’re not, actually. Molly made me a lovely plaque. Matt ordered me a year’s worth of cheese from Murray’s. Peter and Nathan sent me a singing telegram… strange. And Hiro called last night. He was incredibly excited for some reason, babbling. But when I asked him what he was on about, he realized because of the time difference he was actually a day early, and got off the phone very abruptly. It was odd… odder than the singing telegram.”

Alone and unobserved in the bedroom, Hiro smiled: when visiting the future, it’s always reassuring to hear that one is still alive and well.

Sylar rolled his eyes and leaned back into his chair. “Sounds par for the course, given what you’ve told me about him. Anyway. How does it feel being an old man? You’re thirty-two years old today, aren’t you?”

Mohinder looked like he was caught between two directions of taking the conversation. After a moment of mental struggle, his nascent bitchface transformed into a nerdy gleam that made Hiro smile, as it was a look he often wore himself. “Well, that’s actually an interesting question. I’ve been wondering if I should I be celebrating my birthday earlier. Technically speaking, I had been alive for exactly thirty-two years twenty-four days ago, if you count my little sojourn.”

With a relaxed grace, Sylar leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs out endlessly in front of him as he considered this. It was yet another of the seemingly meaningless motions that showed Hiro how mysteriously familiar Sylar seemed to be with Mohinder. There was none of the antagonism Hiro would have expected to see. “I see what you mean. But I think of it as bonus time. Because yeah, you could add twenty-four days, but then would you also subtract back the three days you missed?”

“Good point. I suppose I would. It’s complicated.” Mohinder mused. “I think maybe I’ll just stick to the old birthday.”

Sylar leaned towards Mohinder and spoke with newly intense tone. “Which you’re spending with me, working. You work too hard. You need a vacation.”

Mohinder smirked. “Is that a suggestion or an order?” he asked.

Sylar looked oddly serious for a moment, as if he was coming to a completely irrelevant, yet long-standingly pressing decision. “It’s an invitation, Mohinder,” he at last replied, and reached out to gently cover Mohinder’s hand with his own.

The room went still as Mohinder moved his gaze back and forth between their hands and Sylar’s eyes, finally coming to rest on the hands. Both Hiro and Sylar held their breath as they waited for him to respond. Still staring at Mohinder’s face as if to will him to meet his gaze again, Sylar leaned into the touch and tentatively started stroking Mohinder’s wrist with the tips of his fingers. No one spoke; each quietly dared the other to break first. The two men continued the standoff until the whistling kettle interrupted the stalemate.

Mohinder cleared his throat, slowly reclaimed his hand, and moved to the stove. “Chai or Earl Grey?” he asked, with his back turned, as he busied himself about the cabinets.

Sylar didn’t answer. He sat in his seat, watching Mohinder move around. Finally he stood up and walked over to the other man. He grasped Mohinder by the shoulders and turned him around. “Mohinder,” he said. Mohinder let out a sigh before exploding.

“Isn’t this enough?” Mohinder gestured wildly around them. “Given our situation, isn’t this _more_ than enough?”

“Isn’t what enough?” Sylar asked.

“This. Everything. The meetings, the small talk, the… the unpoisoned tea.” Mohinder’s trembling hand held out the steaming green cups. Sylar took them and placed them on the counter without breaking eye contact.

“No,” was his simple response. “Is it more than enough for you?” For the first time in the conversation, Hiro heard hint of insecurity creep into the man’s voice.

“Yes,” Mohinder stated firmly, but his eyes flitted downwards, unable to look Sylar in the face.

**Sylar says something here that I just can’t figure out! It has to be something germane to the situation, something really memorable and unique, but also something that would make sense in another situation. The whole thing hinges on this line and I was never able to figure out what it was!**

Mohinder stiffened and furrowed his brow in confused shock, as though Sylar had said something much more surprising than he actually had. He took a step back. “What… what did you just say?” he asked.

Sylar looked just as confused as Hiro felt. “Just **Repeat the line.** What?”

Mohinder stood as if in a daze, out of which he tried and failed to shake himself. “Noth---nothing,” he said unconvincingly.

Hiro, absorbed in what was becoming a habit of voyeurism, leaned forward in order to try to hear whatever it was that Sylar seemed about to whisper. His shifting weight caused a floorboard to creak almost inaudibly. Hiro stiffened in fear as he saw Sylar whirl around and start to look suspiciously around the apartment.

“Someone’s here,” he snarled, and began crossing the room towards the bedroom.

Behind Sylar, Hiro saw Mohinder watch Sylar move. Then suddenly, Mohinder’s entire demeanor changed, and his puzzled expression transformed into dawned comprehension. He jumped, and his face and mouth opened wide as if something vitally important that had long bothered him had suddenly clicked. “Wait!” he yelled.

Hiro was readying himself to teleport away when he saw Mohinder lurch frantically towards Sylar, and grab him around both the arm and waist in a full-body effort to stop his progression across the room. He even twisted one of his legs around Sylar to better halt his motions. Finding himself in Mohinder’s arms only moments after it seemed like he had been rejected, Sylar froze in his tracks. His expression showed that he was torn between his compulsion to deal with the possible intruder and his desire to continue in this intimate, if unplanned, embrace.

“How could anyone be in this apartment? We’ve been here for over an hour. I’m sure you’re just picking up on someone next door,” Mohinder babbled breathlessly. Too late, he registered shock as he looked at their bodies and realized that his actions had unintentionally belied his previous words. Hiro couldn’t tell if Mohinder’s nervousness was about how close they were standing or about something else.

Sylar relaxed his body and stared hard into Mohinder’s eyes before burying his face into the side of Mohinder’s head in order to whisper something into his ear. Mohinder, for his part, took advantage of this opportunity to inexplicably scan the room, smile sheepishly at the empty space, and wink at the wall. That done, he took a deep breath and seemed to mentally reenter the moment. Sylar moved his head so as to see Mohinder’s reaction to his whispered words. Contrasting the frantic grab of a moment before, Mohinder now very slowly reached his hand up to touch the tips of Sylar’s hair. He was so tentative that it took a full five seconds to complete the gesture, during which Sylar held his breath.

“It isn’t,” Mohinder replied to whatever had been said. With a shy hesitation that brought to Hiro’s mind the quiet, needy young man he had spied on in Queens, Sylar tilted his head down to meet Mohinder’s lips. His diffidence overcome, Mohinder quickly responded, and actually ended up being the aggressor. Wrapping one arm even more tightly around Sylar’s torso, something snapped in him and a flood of apparently long-repressed desire was coming out.

Hiro watched all this in shock, with his jaw dropped practically to his navel.

“See?” Sylar asked when they finally stopped to breathe, and lovingly traced an invisible line down the side of Mohinder’s face with his thumb.

“I know,” Mohinder breathed, a nervous but contented smile creeping ever so slowly across his features. Suddenly the smile turned into a panicked expression. “But… but…” he sputtered. Sylar quickly silenced him with another kiss. This one went on for much longer, and involved Sylar guiding them slowly towards the wall, until Mohinder had him pinned.

“I really _did_ hear something, though,” Sylar said almost too quietly for Hiro to hear. The man’s shackles were still slightly up, but Hiro knew it was merely for formality’s sake. Nothing was going to budge Sylar from his present spot.

“Well, I’m sure whatever it was has gone by now, _right_?” Mohinder replied in a strangely louder, almost sing-song voice, as though he wasn’t talking to Sylar at all.

Even though the remark couldn’t possibly have been directed at him (could it?), Hiro blushingly took it as his cue to leave. He teleported himself out to the sidewalk, collapsed onto a stoop, and finally let out the deep breaths he had been holding for the past few minutes. He sat there for awhile, mulling over what he had seen and heard.

The sunny calm of the street made him consider for the first time the many contrasts between this future and the one he and Ando had once visited. Yes, between the seeming lack of worldwide trauma evidenced by the conversation he had overheard, and the emotions he had just witnessed, this was a future Hiro didn’t want to simply become an alternate one. This seemed to be as good as it got. As Mohinder had intimated, there was no reason to be sure it would work out in the long run. However, Hiro was a romantic, and something about that scene felt right, despite all the logical reasons why it should be wrong. The seemingly inappropriate pity Hiro had long felt for Charlie and Isaac Mendez’s killer after seeing him with his mother in Queens, and the energetically alive look Sylar sparked in Hiro’s friend’s eyes made him believe it would be ok. Mohinder and Hiro were perhaps the only two men in the world who saw beneath and beyond the dangerous exterior projected---at the man who had, in the elapsed time, seemed to have found an alternative to killing. Hiro laughed as he thought back to what in his personal timeline had been only a couple of hours ago: Mohinder’s embarrassed and long-suffering sigh when asked about his strangely casual phone calls with a serial killer. How much had Mohinder been repressing even then? How much things could change in two years…

Hiro stood up, having remembered a key takeaway from what he had just heard. “Thirty-two years and twenty-four days old. And then later I have to remember, minus three. Twenty-four days,” he repeated to himself. He squinted and stuck his tongue out as he calculated in his head. When he was done, he double-checked his sums, just to be sure. And after the most precise concentration on his ability he had ever yet used, Hiro disappeared.

**(End of chapter 8)**

 

** CHAPTER 9: Everyone’s at Hartsdale **

**1\. Mohinder section: Stuff about the virus and being in Hartsdale. How the relationship dynamics are different now that they’re there. He meets Angela Petrelli, who is subtly impressed with him. Adam continues to try to hit on Mohinder, but Mohinder’s not into it anymore, now that he knows who Adam is. Mohinder is working on the same kind of research he always has, but he slowly grows aware that he’s in the time where Adam’s creating the virus.**

*************************************** 

**2\. We pick up with Sylar the next morning, wearing some more of Mohinder’s clothes. He’s already dropped Molly off at the watch store again, and now he’s on the Upper East Side at Angela Petrelli’s mansion. The butler opens the door to him, looking all upset. Sylar asks to speak with Angela. Butler tells him that she had a brain aneurism late last night and is dead (ie., we the audience realize that she knew she was going to die because of her future-dreaming power, and therefore started things in motion with last night’s letter to Sylar… but Sylar has no way of knowing this). Sylar is confused, but there’s nothing he can do, so he shrugs and goes off to Hartsdale. **

*************************************** 

**3\. Mohinder section: description of life at Hartsdale, and working with Victoria. They’re becoming really good friends. Conversation with Victoria about motivation and need for a purpose. Thinks of Sylar, who has same power as Victoria. Compares Sylar to Victoria and kind of feels bad about the way things panned out because Sylar didn’t have a purpose given to him, so he ended up killing people. Feels bad for deceiving Victoria about who he really is (ie., from the future), and also feels bad about having Adam be so into him when Victoria’s so in love with him. Considers telling her the truth but ultimately decides against it. However, he does tell her that Adam is very dangerous. She kind of laughs, but he can tell that he’s planted the seed of doubt in her head that will hopefully grow bigger than her infatuation.**

*************************************** 

**4\. Sylar gets to Hartsdale. Breaks in and finds Bob. Tense pre-murder conversation ensues. Sylar kills Bob. Has a momentary crisis as he battles with himself about whether or not he wants to follow the orders of some dead stranger. But in the end, he decides to go along with the letter’s instructions. He gets into the safe and finds the folder there just like the letter said. Another battle with himself to follow or not, but then he decides that he doesn’t want to do anything to jeopardize getting more powers, so he puts the folder in his bag and heads down to level five. We’re to understand that he kills a crapload of prisoners and takes their powers, but we don’t see it.**

*************************************** 

**5\. Hiro shows up in Hartsdale, and finds Mohinder without being seen by the others. Mohinder is thrilled. Together, they decide to call Hiro’s dad and tell him all about Adam and the virus. Mohinder uses some chemicals to destroy the vial of really dangerous virus. So it turns out that what Peter destroyed at the end of season 2 was actually just a decoy virus, not dangerous at all, because Mohinder had saved the day 30 years ago! Yay!**

End of chapter 9

 

**CHAPTER 10  
Notes of things that have to get covered in this chapter (that aren’t in this draft): Mohinder thinking about his friendship with Victoria (setting us up for being more okay about Sylar after having known her); Mohinder remembering the obscene wealth he’s accumulated over the past 30 years (because of that banking stuff from chapter 6) but deciding not to tell Sylar about it; Mohinder wondering what the hell has happened to Molly while Sylar was taking care of her and how odd that is. **

In the meanwhile, Hiro and Mohinder have to get out of Hartsdale and back to the future.

Mohinder put his ear to the door. “Hiro, we have to hurry! I can hear someone coming,” he whispered.

“No, I need to concentrate. We need to come back at the right time.” Hiro was very counting on his fingers and looking ridiculous. Having finished whatever calculation he had been doing, Hiro smiled confidently and put his hand on Mohinder’s shoulder. “Ok,” he said, and…

…they were back in the library. Mohinder let out a sigh of relief as Hiro looked around him.

“We did it!” Hiro exclaimed, and moved to give the emotionally spent Mohinder a high five. Someone shushed them.

Mohinder allowed himself to smile. “Yes,” he said. “We did.”

Hiro grinned. “What should we do now?”

“If it’s alright with you, I’d just like to go home,” Mohinder admitted. “It’s been a long day… a long few weeks, actually.”

The other man nodded. “I understand,” Hiro said, and before Mohinder could blink, they were standing in his apartment. Mohinder thought to himself that he was going to have to get used to these sudden changes of scene.

But something was wrong. The place was a godforsaken mess. Things were strewn everywhere as if burglars had rampaged the place.

“What’s all this?” he asked, mostly to himself.

Hiro looked around him. “I think someone has robbed you while you were away.”

Mohinder shook his head. “But I’ve only been gone for a couple of hours. How could anyone have come in here, trashed the place, and left so soon?” he asked. Looking up, he noticed Hiro blushing.

“Maybe...” Hiro began nervously. “Maybe I made a mistake. Maybe it has been longer than two hours?” he offered, and looked sheepishly at the floor.

“What do you mean longer than two hours?” Mohinder asked in a panic. A million thoughts rushed through his head as the worries of his regular life returned to wash over him even more ferociously than before he had escaped all this. He looked at the microwave, which had miraculously remained plugged in. The date was three days after he had left. “Oh my god,” he breathed, when the realization sunk in. Who knew what could have happened in three days: with Bob, with Molly, with Nathan, with everything.

Mohinder spun around to see Hiro trying to sneak out the door.

“Sorry,” the other man whispered, looking strangely not sorry at all.

Mohinder crossed the room to grab his arm. “”It’s fine. We’ll just go back and try again to arrive at the right time,” he said encouragingly.

Hiro panicked. “Um… I don’t know…” he stuttered.

“Come on! It’s only three days. You can do this.”

Hiro looked awkward and closed his eyes distractedly. “No, I cannot do it. I think it is broken? Sometimes my power… sometimes it doesn’t like to be used too often. No, I’m sorry. Please don’t be angry with me.”

Mohinder tried not to shake him. “But we can’t just stay here… now. I don’t know what’s happened to Molly! And what about Sylar? I thought we agreed---”

“You will take care of him,” Hiro interrupted with an inexplicable smile. “It will be ok. Trust me. ****

AND NOW HIRO SAYS THE ALL-IMPORTANT AND ELUSIVE LINE FROM CHAPTER EIGHT. And you’re supposed to get that Mohinder did know Hiro was there in chapter 8 and he  _was_ talking to Hiro and trying to tell him to get out of there, because in that scene he put two-and-two together and realized that Hiro said it here because he heard Sylar say it then, and that’s why Hiro returned him three days later, yadda yadda timey-wimey stuff that I love. :)

“What is that supposed to mean?” Mohinder asked.

With a mysterious wink, Hiro vanished, leaving Mohinder standing alone in his disaster of an apartment. Mohinder shook his head at Hiro’s ridiculousness and wondered how things could possibly be okay after an unannounced three-day absence from existence. Despite the predicament he’d been left in---_again_\---Mohinder couldn’t find it in himself to be angry; strange as Hiro was, Mohinder was sure he had done his best. He would deal with this as he had dealt with 1977; and hey, what were three days compared to thirty years? With a sigh, he searched for the disconnected telephone so he could call Molly. Mohinder prayed---and assumed---that she had called Matt when he didn’t pick her up from school on the first day, and that Matt had taken the first flight back, or at least had sent some NYPD coworkers to keep her safe. Hopefully that had been in time to stave off any potential threats. With his pulse racing from worry, Mohinder found himself inappropriately wondering if Molly had been able to find him. It was an interesting scientific and philosophical question, although not the time to ponder it.

There was a longish pause after the phone registered a connection.

“Hello? Molly?” Mohinder finally asked into the void. Something was wrong. Now he was _really_ worried. “Are you there?”

A low and unsteady voice returned the question. “Mohinder?”

For some reason, this was the last thing Mohinder had expected. His stomach jumped up into his throat. “Sylar?” Mohinder began speaking very quickly. “What have you done with Molly? Where are you? I thought we had an agreement. I thought…” Mixed with the shock, the anger, and the fear was a mysterious feeling of disappointment. Mohinder wanted to hit himself for thinking for a second that he could hold this man to his word. He didn’t know why he had expected to. Something about Sylar had always made him feel that he didn’t lie in this way. Obviously Mohinder had been wrong.

Sylar interrupted Mohinder’s panicked rant. “I---”

There were sounds of a brief scuffle and then Molly’s joyful and apparently unafraid little voice suddenly came through. “Mohinder! Are you back?”

Mohinder let out a deep breath of relief; he couldn’t see her, but from the joy in her voice, he somehow knew that Sylar had kept his word after all. He heard Sylar shout an irritated “What do you think you’re doing?” in the background.

“Molly? Are you ok?”

“I’m totally fine. He isn’t, though. I---”

Mohinder heard Sylar roar “Shut up!” from somewhere in her vicinity, but not in what Mohinder recognized as Sylar’s usual commanding tone. Then he heard a most unpleasant and disgustingly prolonged noise in the background as Molly continued at a breakneck pace, presumably to get out what she was trying to say before Sylar grabbed the phone from her.

“We’re on Bedford Avenue and 7th Street in Williamsburg. The closed-up place next door to the shoe store. Come quickly, Mohinder. And bring some pepto. He’s---” Molly said before she was cut off.

“If you call anyone between now and arriving here, it’s all off,” Sylar growled before the connection was cut. But the tone was less than usually convincing.

Mohinder stared at the phone in confusion. That had been beyond a doubt the strangest conversation he had ever had. As he rushed out of the building, he attempted to mentally prepare himself for this new challenge. Just before he went underground into the subway, Mohinder noticed the convenience store on the corner. He stopped for a second and battled with himself. Sylar definitely did not warrant Mohinder’s concern, but at the same time, she _had_ made a request, and she _had_ sounded completely unharmed. Mohinder decided to be the bigger man; Sylar deserved punishment, not indigestion. For the umpteenth time in many months, Mohinder shook his head at the relentless insanity of his life. Here he was, just back from a time-traveling trip, buying meds for a serial killer with an upset stomach.

As he entered the store, it suddenly struck him that he had never told Hiro his address. How had Hiro known where he lived? Perhaps the ability came with some sort of locational side-effect? Interesting. However, just as quickly as the thought had floated into Mohinder’s head, it floated right back out again. There were other things to worry about right now.

**********************************************************

When Mohinder finally reached the address Molly had given him 40 minutes later (damn Hiro for taking off so soon), he saw only a boarded up storefront on a busy block. He knew Molly had to have told him the correct address, but he had no idea what this place was supposed to be. She must have been on a constant mental look-out for him, for only about five seconds after he arrived and was standing in front of the store, the shutter opened to reveal her little face.

“Mohinder!” she squealed joyfully, and ran into his arms.

“Hello dear,” he replied. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to leave you alone. I’ll never forgive myself if he did anything---”

“No, no not at all,” she said as she took his hand and led him inside. “It’s been… ok. He wouldn’t let me call for help, but he has been protecting me from the company. I mean, it hasn’t been _nice_, but…” she continued as she led a stunned Mohinder into a warmly-lit shop room. Mohinder saw Sylar leaning on a counter filled with metal bits and bobs. He was paler yet also redder than Mohinder had ever seen him. The distinctive smell of vomit-covered-up-by-Lysol that he remembered from his college days permeated the space.  
He had been sagging for the few seconds Molly had been out of sight, but now Sylar stiffened, willing himself to pull it together. Even if the kid would tell him about it later, Sylar didn’t want Mohinder to see the state he was in.  
Mohinder and Sylar took simultaneous deep breaths as they looked into one another’s eyes. Mohinder opened the obligatory sparring session with, “You look like hell.”

“It’s so kind of you to notice,” Sylar replied sarcastically. “You, on the other hand, look very well. I see you’ve had plenty of time for your nose to heal.”

Sylar was disappointed to see that Mohinder was too busy looking around him to process the implication of his words. Mohinder’s eyes rested on Brian Davis’s blood stains on the floor. “What _is_ this place? Does it belong to your latest victim? Where’s the body? What power did you take today?” Mohinder was going to continue in the best way he knew to deal with Sylar when the solemn quality of the other man’s voice cut him off.

“It belongs to me, Mohinder.” Yet another embarrassment. Sylar cursed this day. This was not how he had envisioned his triumphant reunion with the disappeared scientist. He could feel himself turning an even less attractive shade red mixed with white, and struggled to remain standing.

“You?” Mohinder was having a hard time wrapping his head around the notion of Sylar owning anything as practical and profitable as a shop. His mind swirled with a hundred questions.

“He used to make watches,” Molly piped in when Sylar didn’t immediately respond. “He’s the Gray who owns the shop.” She pointed at the writing on the window. Gray &amp; Sons. Gabriel Gray. He remembered Bob telling him that that had been Sylar’s original name.

“Oh?” Mohinder replied, feeling slightly awed. He instinctively knew how difficult it must be for Sylar to share his past with anyone, let alone him and Molly. His eyes rested on a particular piece, the one that had been left unfinished on a day Sylar remembered well, but which Mohinder, of course, knew nothing about. Something clicked. “Sylar… of course. This is…” Mohinder trailed off and looked at the floor, not certain how to put into words the deep realization he had just made. He cleared his throat. “Who is the other son?” he asked tentatively. Sylar was such a selfish and isolated creature that Mohinder had a hard time imagining him with siblings. Now he was being forced to question everything he had known about the man. _Again._ But this time, Mohinder felt as though he had finally gotten beyond the last mask.

“My father.” The only thing keeping him from desperate humiliation was the way Mohinder didn’t seem to be reacting dismissively; rather, he seemed simply curious.

“Oh?” Mohinder repeated. Why was such an everyday kind of conversation making him feel so uncomfortable? Perhaps because he’d never had such an honest and everyday conversation with this man before. Mohinder found it… exhilarating.

“My father died many years ago. Actually, this is where I met yours.” Sylar said with just a hint of antagonism. He would have preferred not to invoke that particular memory at this moment, but it was the only way he knew to get the conversation back on a track he was familiar with and to regain some control over the situation. But to Sylar’s surprise, Mohinder didn’t bristle the way he usually did. Instead he simply continued looking around, trying to picture the scene as it must have transpired. Instead of thinking of the dream vision of his father being murdered in a car, his mind flew to Victoria. He wondered where she might be right now.

When Mohinder didn’t respond, Molly jumped in. “So were we right? Did you see your dad?” she asked.

He looked down at her in shock. “You… you know?” His eyes were drawn back up to Sylar’s. Sylar nodded. “How?”

“You left some clues. I… we put them together.” Sylar was gripping the counter so hard, his knuckles were turning paper white, but his face remained stoically impassive.

“Was it cool?” Molly asked, prodding Mohinder with a finger to make him pay attention to her.

All of the memories of the past few weeks flashed through his brain: meeting his sister, bonding with his mother, reconciling his feelings about his father, meeting Victoria, knowing Adam… “Actually, it _was_,” he admitted.

“And that guy with the sword? He took you there?” Molly continued in her interrogation.

“Yes, exactly,” Mohinder said, still feeling dazed. Mohinder was surprised at how much of the story they had indeed managed to piece together.

“Why did it take three days for him to bring you back?” Sylar asked.

Mohinder shrugged. “I don’t know. He said it was a mistake but… no.” Mohinder’s found himself replaying the scene and realizing something. “I think he had a reason, but I couldn’t make it out.”

Mohinder’s train of thought was interrupted and banished when he saw Sylar start to sink behind the counter, his knuckles turning even whiter, if possible. Without quite knowing what he was doing or why, Mohinder suddenly found himself moving to support the larger man before he fell down. The position was awkward, however, and with Sylar heavy in his arms, Mohinder ended up moving slowly and uncomfortably onto the tiled floor beneath as well.

They sat like that for a moment, while Sylar closed his eyes and tried to regain steady breathing. Mohinder gently repositioned the sick man so that his back rested against one wall and his legs laid over Mohinder’s own, whose back was to a perpendicular wall. He reached for the plastic bag he had brought with him.

“I got some Pepto, as Molly asked,” Mohinder said nervously, quite aware of the preposterousness of the scene. He felt his own stomach clench as their eye contact held. Although he couldn’t bring himself to enumerate all the items aloud, he also pulled a big bottle of ginger ale, a packet of Advil, and a small box of saltines out of the bag.

Sylar didn’t smile, but as he watched Mohinder’s movements, there was a surprised look of wonderment in his eyes and sheepish narrowing of the eyebrows that were warmer than a smile. It was an expression Mohinder hadn’t seen since the days on the road with Zane, and which in the intervening months, Mohinder had always dismissed from his memories as yet another part of the mask. Yet, here it was, reappearing as a result of what couldn’t be anything other than genuine gratitude.

“I’ll, er… get a glass.” Both men looked up at Molly, and realized they had forgotten she was there. She looked as uncomfortable as they felt, and ran off into the back room. Mohinder fleetingly observed that she seemed quite at home here. His curiosity about the past few days was piqued as he turned to look back at Sylar.

“Thank you,” Sylar said softly, now staring transfixed at Mohinder. “But I don’t think---”

Mohinder looked away, strangely embarrassed, and cut him off. “Don’t thank me. I did it only because Molly asked. What you really deserve…” Mohinder interrupted himself. Why bother getting antagonistic about it when the stuff had already been bought? “Molly said that you’ve been protecting her?” he began again more politely.

“I decided she was more useful in my hands than in theirs,” Sylar replied automatically. He wasn’t really paying attention to the conversation. He was much more aware of how close they were sitting. They hadn’t been this close since… well, never, actually, because “on top of Mohinder” was a place Sylar had never been before.

“Well, no matter the reason, thank you,” Mohinder said simply. He found himself unable to continue holding Sylar’s gaze, so his eyes drifted downwards towards something very familiar. “Where… where did you get this shirt?”

“Where do you think?” Sylar smiled weakly, and then started shaking uncontrollably. Mohinder noticed Sylar starting to break into hives and registered the sweaty flush that was on his brow, and actually all over his body. The man was literally falling apart at the seams. His body was revolting at something, everything.

Mohinder looked at him---really saw that something was seriously wrong, for the first time. “This isn’t a stomach ache, is it?” he asked.

“No,” Sylar replied when the shakes finally ceased. Trying to avoid the topic he added, “I’ll live.”

“Pity.”

“Oh, give it a rest, Mohinder. Anyway, I have something to tell you.”

“What?” Mohinder couldn’t help being curious.

Sylar reached painfully for his stuff. This wasn’t the way he had hoped the grand dénouement would go, but it would have to do. He groped in the bag and removed a large box. With as much offhand elegance as he could muster, he handed the box to Mohinder, who took it in confusion.

Sylar looked on as Mohinder opened it to find a wealth of legal documents, keys, and other important items. “What is all this?” Mohinder asked.

“The Company,” Sylar said with a smile and a flourish. “You’re the new head. Or CEO. Whatever you want to call yourself.”

Mohinder unfolded a note left to him.

**Insert note written by Angela, knowing from her power that she was going to die (I knew that’s what it was, even before season 3) and that she was leaving the company to Mohinder, based on thinking he was so great back in 1977… she’s known all along what was going on!**

Mohinder looked back up. His mind was racing. “I don’t understand. What does this mean? What about---?”

“---Bob?” Sylar started to chuckle despite himself. Mohinder looked at him uncomprehendingly. Right. Mohinder had never been good with movie references. “Let’s just say he’s been taken care of, and you’ve been made the legal inheritor of everything belonging to Primatech Paper, both on and off the books. I’m going to be your financial backer from now on.” With a weak smile, Sylar took one of the finished watches out of a case. It took much more effort than he was accustomed to, but he was relieved to see that this power at least was functioning properly, when the bronze strap turned into pure gold.

Mohinder stared in dismay. “So you…? I see. Oh god.” Bob had been no friend of his, and reprehensible in every way, and yet Mohinder still felt a pang of dismay at the evidence of his murder---less than with Sylar’s other murders, though. He forced himself to remain calm. “Why? Don’t you want…? Why are you doing this? What’s in it for you?”

“Technically, I’m not doing anything. When Angela Petrelli and later Bob Bishop tragically passed away, the company was bequeathed to you. There isn’t anything I can do about it, and I’m not the office type. But I will say that I’d rather see someone like you in charge of these resources than people like them. As far as I’m concerned, I got my revenge. Plus, you’re more fun to annoy.”

Despite the compliment he couldn’t help but notice that Sylar was paying him underneath that practiced insolence, Mohinder shuddered to think about what had transpired during his absence and what Sylar must have done to bring this about. In one sense, it was too horrible for words. In another, it could be seen as a blessing. The threat posed by the company was truly dead, and to legitimately own its resources opened a new field of possibilities. Mohinder could actually begin helping people. “What do you expect in return for this unasked-for development, assuming I accept it?”

“Not much. Monthly board meetings?” Sylar shrugged and held his arms out in a mock-welcoming gesture.

“I assume you’re the board,” Mohinder said dryly and pursed his lips when Sylar smiled and nodded. “Anything else?”

“Suggestions of directions to take your research?”

“Suggestions? You mean orders.”

“Whatever you want to call it. You’re the scientist. I’m simply the board. I promise I’ll be relatively hands-off.”

“I won’t work for you, no matter how hands off you are.”

“Think of it less as _for_ and more _with_.”

“That hardly helps,” Mohinder replied.

The superhuman effort of this scene that he had so looked forward to had taken its toll on Sylar. He could no longer keep it up, and doubled over, falling to the floor. “I think my first ‘suggestion’,” he continued, after a coughing fit had stopped, “would be for you to figure out what’s wrong with me. And fix it. You did such a beautiful job the other day.”

“When you coerced me.” Mohinder looked at Sylar lying on the floor, and this time was hesitant about going towards him.

“Yes, but now you have so much to be grateful to me for. It would be churlish of you to stand idly by. Again,” he taunted, having a feeling that this would strike a new well-spring of guilt in Mohinder.

He was right; Mohinder cringed, sighed, and moved over to kneel beside Sylar’s prostrate figure. Sylar had him pegged.

The medical doctor Mohinder had now grown accustomed to impersonating surfaced. “What were you doing before you started to feel ill?”

With one last rally of strength, Sylar tried to shrug it off in his usual cryptic manner, hoping Mohinder was up to the challenge of figuring it out. “I relieved you of jailer duty. You’re new to the company, and you don’t have any abilities. I wasn’t sure you could handle all the prisoners. Consider it a favor.”

Mohinder felt a cold wave of nausea sweep over him as he mentally cut through Sylar’s bullshit to finally realize what was going on. The prisoner level in Hartsdale.

“How many?” he asked directly.

“Twelve.”

“In how long?” Mohinder was sickened.

“Fifteen minutes,” Sylar whispered. Now that he had said it aloud, the logical explanation he had been trying to dismiss could no longer be ignored.

“Are they working?”

Sylar shook his head. “Just the alchemy, which I got before I went downstairs.”

“How many did you have total, before the twelve?”

“Ten.”

“I don’t need to tell you what I think is going on, do I? That you’ve overdosed?”

“You’ve got to fix it.” There was real desperation in Sylar’s voice.

“I’m hardly going to help you recover the ability to gain new powers. And anyway, I’ve long thought that the body can only hold so many. There must be some limit, even for you. Maybe it’s time to figure out some other purpose, some other occupation. I mean, this…” Mohinder looked around.

“Don’t you dare suggest that.” Sylar’s intensity made Mohinder jump.

“I wasn’t going to. You interrupted me,” Mohinder said tersely. “I was going to say that was once an option, but you could really do anything you want, even without the other abilities you’ve stolen. You have no idea the potential you have, if not to do something good for the world, then at least for yourself. Given what a selfish being I know you are, that should be incentive enough.”

**Mohinder thinks to himself. Makes a lot of important life decisions. More conversation.**

“I can’t take you back to the apartment with me,” Mohinder finally said.

“You can hardly keep me away out of some principle, given that I’ve already spent two nights there.”

There was silence as they sustained challenging yet somewhat amused stares.

Molly finally returned with a glass. Neither man asked why it had taken her so long.

**THE END**


End file.
